


Brand New

by Levaaah



Series: Freefalling [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Blow Jobs, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Brutale, Confrontations, Crime Fighting, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Dom/sub, Rape Aftermath, Romani Dick Grayson, Self-Hatred, Slice of Life, Tea, but he tries, god that's a lot of tea, like an unhealthy amount of tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levaaah/pseuds/Levaaah
Summary: Like when I close my eyes and don't even care if anyone sees me dancingLike I can fly, and don't even think of touching the groundLike a heartbeat skip, like an open pageLike a one way trip on an aeroplaneIt's the way that I feel when I'm with you, brand newShe pulls the helmet off of her head, resting it in front of her before she tilts her head up towards the sun. For a long while Eleanor lets herself enjoy the quiet peace, breathing in the morning air and letting the sun warm her face. When she finally does open her eyes, blue peers back at her.“Hey pretty bird.”Eleanor smiles. “Hey Dickie, thanks for coming.”
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Original Female Character
Series: Freefalling [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631698
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	1. You remind me what I used to know

2018 – August – Gotham 

The remnants of the night haven’t completely faded when Eleanor gets to the outskirts of the city. She turns her bike off, just enjoying the soft breeze of the late summer and the sun peeking through suburban houses. It’s nice, these early mornings when the city hasn’t quite woken up and most of the crime has lulled to a stop. While she would never describe Gotham as peaceful, this is probably the closest it would get. The sky is a beautiful soft pink and orange which might just be Eleanor’s favourite colours right after the blue of a certain someone’s eyes.

She pulls the helmet off of her head, resting it in front of her before she tilts her head up towards the sun. For a long while Eleanor lets herself enjoy the quiet peace, breathing in the morning air and letting the sun warm her face. When she finally does open her eyes, blue peers back at her.

“Hey pretty bird.”

Eleanor smiles. “Hey Dickie, thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” He says, though she can tell he’s probably not slept much since patrol. Judging by the way he keeps sleepily blinking at her. Eleanor dismounts her bike, kicking the support up and pocketing the keys before she walks around and leans in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Roughly a month ago she’d asked him out, again. After spending close to two years rebuilding their friendship and rebuilding her life, in Eleanor’s case. (She was studying again, MIT, which had put a dampener in her vigilante activities as she’d actually moved to Boston for it, though not for very long, she was about a semester away from her bachelor’s degree.) They’d had a serious conversation about a romantic relationship. The most important point being that there would never be any lies between them, no matter how much it was to protect the other. The conversation had lasted well into the night, until the point where Batman had appeared at her apartment’s balcony in Old Gotham to check in on her since she’d missed patrol. (It had been slightly amusing when it had clicked with dad about why they weren’t suited up.)

Both of them had agreed on taking it slow, even though they’d pretty much done it all before, the dates were still exciting. Movies, walks, dinners. Even just staying in and watching TV. The new relationship feeling hadn’t really gone away, but despite that it still felt right. Like all the pieces were falling into their right place. Even now, staring at Dick’s frankly ridiculously gorgeous face, darker tanned because of the summer sun, and light blue eyes has her feeling like there’s butterflies in her stomach. Yet there’s something else too, besides being tired. And she remembers the phone call they had yesterday.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me, pretty bird.” His small smile is real, she knows that, she’s known him long enough to be able to tell the difference.

“I know how much being a police officer meant to you.”

His shoulders drop, the smile becomes bittersweet. “I don’t blame Amy for making that decision. She’s a good cop, and I technically break the law every night.”

Eleanor makes a noise in the back of her throat, “just because you understand it doesn’t mean it hurts less.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be forever.” Dick points out.

“But you enjoyed it.” Eleanor says stepping closer and reaching out to touch his arm. Dick grabs the hand, brings it up to his lips and presses a light kiss there. Giving her another soft smile.

“I know but we can talk about that later. For now let’s go wish the birthday boy, happy birthday.”

Eleanor hums in agreement, tangling their fingers together before they walk towards the cemetery gates.

The headstone has changed over the years. It used to be a simple granite with his name on it and while it’s still granite it’s now got a hooded praying angel on top of it.

_HERE LIES  
JASON TODD_

Eleanor hadn’t been sure about the angel when she’d spotted it. She’d imagined that Jason would have thought it tacky. Eleanor had never had the courage to asked Bruce about the headstone, she figured it was just dads way of honouring him without talking about Jason himself. Now, if only she were brave enough to bring it up, maybe she’d be able to get him to change it to a simpler headstone, one with a quote from Jay’s favourite book. Maybe; _“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”_ Or, maybe; _“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”_

Dick lets go of her hand, crouching down to place his fingers on the stone.

“Happy birthday buddy.”

Eleanor breathes slowly, fighting back that lump in her throat that inevitably made itself known whenever she thought about the fourteen-year-old that would never have his fifteenth birthday, or like it is today, his eighteenth.

“Happy birthday Jason,” she murmurs, seeing him in her mind’s eye. Forever fourteen years old with a big toothy smile accompanied by sea green eyes and a curly mess of black hair that he’d insisted was ‘modern style’. “I brought you your favourite book.” Eleanor continues, sitting down in the grass and crossing her legs, not at all bothered by the morning dew. She brings the book out from her coat's pocket, the pages of it are worn and there’s an old tea stain on some of the corners.

She flips through the pages when Dick shuffles to sit by her side, resting his head on his shoulder. Whenever he came with her, he wouldn’t say much, but his silent support means more than she could express in words. Normally she’d make time to come visit Jason at least once a week, despite the flight from Boston to Gotham being well over four hours. Now during summer time she went almost every day, usually only for an hour or so and talking about everything from a silly TV show she’d watched recently to people she had met at the nearby café.

“Dick wanted to come with today,” she says, giving her boyfriend a soft smile. One he returns tenfold.

“I was thinking of taking Ellie to that café with a bookstore built into it later,” Dick says, eyes flickering to the headstone. “The one I caught you sneaking off to while we were supposed to be patrolling.”

Eleanor huffs, “we’ll order an extra cup of tea for you Jay. Chai, with no sugar or cream because it ruins the flavour.”

“Though it totally doesn’t,” Dick says, grinning. She bumps her shoulder to his.

“Not everyone loves sugar as much as you do.”

Dick hums in agreement, “I do like sweet things.”

She barely manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes, leaning her forehead against Dick’s for a brief moment, Eleanor then flips the book open, page one.

 _“It is a truth universally acknowledged,”_ she starts, _“that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must want a wife.”_

At some point during her reading of Pride and Prejudice, she starts getting nostalgic feelings of sitting in the library back at the manor. They’d spend hours in there, finding books that were old enough to be the original copy that Jay had loved to read. When Eleanor had asked him about why he loved books so much, Jason had said it reminded him of the few good times where his mom had been sober enough and would read to him. It had tugged on her heartstring, and before she knew it Eleanor had started reading out loud to him. She’d never spent that much time in the library before Jason had moved in to the manor. For her it had always been poetry, and those books she’d kept in her own bookcase in her room.

But Jason, he’d spent more time in the library than his own room, always reading, always assimilating books like he could survive on the words alone.

Eleanor wishes she could stay and read the entire book, but after an hour her throat starts to strain a bit and her legs are starting to hurt from the position. So, with some reluctance she lowers the book before closing it. She’ll come back later and finish it. Even though she’d already re-read the book enough times she’s lost count.

Stretching, she glances over to Dick, his eyes are closed, and head leant back, face turned towards the sun. He looks peaceful like this. Like all the worries of the world wasn’t resting on his shoulders. Eleanor should take him out during daytime more often, maybe the park wouldn’t be a bad idea.

She looks back to the stone, reaching out and tracing Jason’s name with the tips of her fingers, the granite is warm under her touch. It’s been almost four years since his death. Through the grieving, the miserable sadness and eventually the peaceful acceptance there’s always been one question she’s never been able to answer.

“Do you think Jay trusted me?”

Dick’s head snaps towards her in a speed that makes her worry about his neck. “Of course he did, what makes you say that?”

“I just…” Eleanor pauses, trying to get her thoughts together. “He never told me about where he was going when it all happened. Never told me it was because he wanted to find his birth mom.”

Another pause. “I’ve always wondered why he didn’t.”

Dick sneaks his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He presses his lips to her temple for a moment.

“Maybe he didn’t want you thinking that he was replacing us.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, shrugging. “Maybe.”

“Hey,” Dick says pulling back enough to look her in the eyes. “Jason might have looked up to Bruce, to me. Idolized us as heroes. But it was you and Alfie that he confided in. He trusted you guys with his heart. Okay? Don’t ever for a moment believe otherwise.”

Eleanor smiles tersely resisting the temptation to teasingly poke him on the nose. “When did you get so wise, huh?”

“Trial and error, mostly.” Dick smiles back, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I did wrong with Jay, pushed him away because of my own insecurity and fears. I did better with Tim, I was the big brother I was supposed to be to Jay, or at least I hope so.”

Eleanor had seen their relationship in action, Dick teased Tim almost constantly sure, but he was also mentoring towards him, and not just in their vigilante lives. The first time she’d met Tim he’d been almost a carbon copy of her own personality, shy, quiet, calculating. But now? He wasn’t exactly the social butterfly Dick is, but Tim’s confidence had grown substantially. It was amazing to see.

“I think you are,” she replies, leaning her head against Dick’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well. You’re biased.” He teases, cheek pressing against her.

“Completely.”

Dick chuckles lightly, before he moves away and stands, pulling Eleanor to her feet. “C’mon. If Jay were here right now he’d tell us to stop moping on his birthday. Let’s get some breakfast at that library café, then we’ll head over to the race tracks and see if we can beat our old records. Deal?”

“Deal.” Eleanor laughs.

The café is one of those hidden away spots that you’d only really find if you’re a local. It’s a nice cosy place that smells like old books and coffee. Her and Dick end up in the section of the store that plays Bach on an old record player, drinking Jay’s favourite tea and quietly talking about the things that he loved. Like Neapolitan ice cream and cars. Re-telling their favourite moments with him as well, Eleanor wasn’t sure which moment was her favourite if she was honest. There was so many of them, like the simpler ones of following Jay’s instructions while they baked in the manor kitchen, and the inevitable way the cake or bread they made ended up strange because of her involvement. Or the moments when they play fought, how Jay always had a way of surprising her and how that smug smile would always appear on his face afterwards.

A while later when they leave Eleanor stops and orders another cup on the go (yes she might have a slight addiction to sencha tea). While they’re waiting for the barista to make it, she turns back to Dick.

“You know the first time you taught Jay how to work the trapeze lines back home?”

“Yeah, it was a couple of weeks after he moved in.”

“Well, after that, when you went back to New York, he wouldn’t stop talking about it. We didn’t do anything else for several days, it was just the trapezes.”

Dick smiles fondly and Eleanor is pretty sure she’s mirroring it, both of them being reminded on how absolutely ecstatic Jason had been whenever he tried a new thing. Then her name is called, and she goes to accept the third, or was it forth(?) cup from the barista. As she’s turning back towards the exit and Dick she almost empties the cup straight onto another patron.

“Whoa!” Both of them say at the same time. The man, at least four or five inches taller than her reaches out to steady her hand with a speed that catches her completely off guard.

“Careful.” He says, withdrawing his hand once she regains control of her paper cup.

“I’m so sorry!” Eleanor blurts out quickly, looking him over, making sure she didn’t accidentally spill any tea on him. Sunglasses and a hoodie stop her from getting any discernible features of his face, bar a small almost invisible scar on his upper lip. But there’s something else, something Eleanor can’t quite put her finger on. She gets the weirdest feeling when she looks at this guy, like he’s familiar to her somehow. Maybe he’s a regular at the shop and she’s encountered him somewhere in here before.

“No harm done,” he offers easily, shrugging and ducks his head before stepping out of her way. Eleanor smiles apologetically, walking back over to Dick. When she gets there, she can’t help but look over her shoulder.

“You okay?” He asks, shooting a puzzled look over her shoulder as well.

“Yeah, just this weird feeling.” Eleanor says, shaking her head.

They walk out of the café hand in hand, people rushing past them to get to their jobs or other activities. The city truly coming back to life after the night. It’s silly really how much time Eleanor spent in the past sleeping during the day, never really getting to know the city she called home. Even now, living in a student home _-yes dad, I want the whole collage experience. No, I don’t want a penthouse apartment. I like my roommates-_ in Boston she felt more connected to Gotham than she ever had before. Maybe it had something to do with her own personal growth as well.

Blinking herself out of her thoughts she glances over to Dick, he’s being uncharacteristically silent today. Eleanor notes.

“Hey.” She says, squeezing his hand “You good?”

“I’m alright,” he replies, squeezing her hand back. “Just thinking… about Tim.” He pauses and sights a world-weary sigh. “I’m worried about him giving up his night time job, he said he’s fine about it if it helps his dad feel more at peace but…” Dick looks over to her, a crooked smile on his lips. “It’s not something you really walk away from is it?”

“Not really,” Eleanor says, taking a sip from her tea. “But it might not be forever you know? Maybe Jack just needs time to understand?”

All though she sort of understands why Jack Drake told Tim not to continue being Robin. It was a very dangerous job, and days like this specific day only solidifies that. And Tim is only fifteen, now that he wasn’t a vigilante he could do normal fifteen-year-old things, like fall in love, make normal friends that he doesn’t have to lie to and in two years’ time he’ll get to pick a collage. All things that Jason never got. Some things that even herself and Dick didn’t do at that age either.

“He trained so hard for it though. To him it wasn’t for the thrill, like it was for me. It was because he wanted to be the best detective out there y’know?”

“He can still be the best detective, Dick. He doesn’t need to put on a suit for that.”

They stop on the edge of the sidewalk. Behind her people flood the streets like a breaking dam. Yet none of the busy Gothamites pay attention to the two of them.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Eleanor replies teasingly, “I’m your girlfriend, and everyone knows the girlfriend is always right.”

Dick throws his head back and laughs, which is exactly what she’d been aiming for. Out of all the charming and good parts of him, it’s his laugh that makes Eleanor fall head over heels in love with him over and over again. And it never gets old, it’s contagious, and it makes her feel happy, makes her feel like the sky’s the limit.

She reaches up, mesmerised by the way his mouth quirks up, and how his eyes seem to sparkle. Eleanor places her hand over his cheek as his laughter dies down, lips still up turned, eyes still like stars. And it blows her mind that she’s allowed to touch him like this, just a simple caress of her fingers against his cheek.

“I love you.” She tells him. Forever and always, until the last star went out in the universe. Dick leans against her hand. His smile going from boisterous to soft, warm.

“I know.” He leans in, pressing his lips against hers. It’s a nice kiss, unhurried, lazy almost, surrounded by the scent of him, citrus and chai. Their noses bump together and they both smile, momentarily breaking the kiss. With another quick peck, he tucks some of her thick black hair behind her ear. “I love you too, pretty bird.”

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of driving an off-road bike, it’s not _really_ about the speed in this case. It’s about the control, of the powerful machine that could easily throw you off if you’re not careful enough or daring enough.

Eleanor loves it.

Not only is it an incredible workout, but it also makes you a better street driver. Being able to think quick on your feet for the slight change in the environment. Predict which paths to take to maximise the effort made.

Oh and, she’s highly competitive. _(Then again they all are)._

Racing around the track with Dick doing tricks and showing off skills that may or may not be more for style than actual training and also making sure to at least give the guy overseeing them a slight heart attack is fun.

Eleanor isn’t sure if Dick lets her win or not, they’ve always been fairly equal when it came to their biking skills, but pulling off the helmet after crossing the finishing line, feeling sweat drip from her brow and seeing Dick do the same with a wide grin on his face. Makes her think that maybe, it doesn’t matter who won. _All though he did just lose their bet and totally owes her a favour that she might or might not collect on._

She’s still high off the adrenaline of the race when they pull the bikes off the track and into the garage. The guy who owns the place – Max – is loudly complaining while he follows them that some of the stuff they pulled out there wasn’t good for the track or the bikes. She pushes the kickstand down then quick and decisively takes a step to Dick’s bike and hooks her finger to the top of his shirt, then pulls him towards her to crush their lips together.

Max’s rant dies down into a grumble and he spins on his feet, muttering something about “billionaires” before exiting the garage.

“Poor guy,” Dick murmurs when they part, Eleanor reluctantly letting go off his shirt.

“He always complains, and we never listen. You’d think he’d learn by now.” Eleanor says, letting her hair out from the bun she’d put it in before they started. “Besides, the amount of cash he gets from keeping the place private for an hour is enough for the maintenance on the track _and_ bikes for a couple of months.”

Dick sighs dramatically, “billionaires”.

She shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder, crouching down to check the engine of her bike to make sure it wasn’t too messed up. (It isn’t at all messed up, only dirty. Eleanor knows how far she can push the machines she drives).

“So… What’s next on our day of awesomeness?”

She huffs ‘awesomeness’ under her breath, then tilts her head back to look at him. Dick’s leant over the bike, hand propping his head up as he watches her through dark eyelashes.

“I was thinking we go back to my place…” Eleanor starts.

“Uh-huh”

“We re-heat some of that leftover lasagne that Alfred gave us.”

“Keep going.”

“Maybe take a bath.”

“Together?” Blue eyes glimmer with mischief and interest.

Eleanor hums thoughtfully. Teasingly.

“Then what?” Dick says, leaning forward, broadcasting his eagerness. She barely holds back laughing.

“Avatar: The Last Airbender marathon?”

“Sold! Though we’re talking the TV show right? Not the…” He trails off, waving his fingers as if that explains everything.

She hums noncommittally again, standing up and walking towards the exit without another word, hearing Dick’s footsteps behind her as he follows her.

“Ellie?” For a moment she can’t tell if there’s genuine worry in his voice or not. “You mean the TV show right? Ellie?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Eleanor asks, holding his bike jacket out to him. They’d barely gotten through the front door when he’d received a phone call from Haly’s, Dick’s in the process of putting his boots back on when he looks up. The returning smile is reassuring, if a bit sad.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I don’t think I’m brave enough to risk the wrath of Babs _and_ Cass.” All though Eleanor didn’t particularly want to miss girl’s night with Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie they wouldn’t be too annoyed with her if she told them what Dick told her. One of the trapeze artists from the circus had died recently and they needed a stand-in to help them with the performance, someone who could adapt quickly. There's really only one man for the job.

“They’d understand.” Dick takes the jacket, shrugging it on before stepping close to her, arms wrapping around her waist. Eleanor loves being with him like this, to feel the warmth of him through their clothes. The firm muscles of his arms around her waist.

“I appreciate the offer, but…”

Eleanor leans her forehead against his, rubbing his upper arm through the jacket. “Got it,” she says. “Stay safe, sunshine.”

“I love you,” he whispers and before she can offer a reply, Dick’s lips are on hers. Unlike their earlier kisses, one that had been lazy and comforting, and the other quick and filled with adrenalin. This one is warm, filled with a need to portray what they’re feeling that can’t be said through words. Eleanor feels like she’s floating and the only thing anchoring her to earth is Dick’s arms around her waist. His tongue touches her lower lip and she opens her mouth to let him in. It’s a kiss that feels like an eternity yet is at the same time too short. When they part his cheeks are flushed beautifully. Eleanor places a hand on the side of his face, running her thumb over the heated skin. Then wraps her other arm tightly against the back of his neck and pushes him back against the door.

Dick lets out a soft ‘oompf’, muffled by her lips on his in another open-mouthed kiss that steals both of their breath away. Eleanor nips at his bottom lip, then sooths it with her tongue. She tastes the flavour of his bubble gum – candy flavoured because he’s got that much of a sweet tooth, and faintly of coffee, which although she doesn’t drink herself Eleanor doesn’t mind. It’s just entirely him. Her heart thuds with the words in her head. _I-love-you. I-love-you. I-love-you._

He pulls back and breathily whispers against her lips. “I’ve gotta go.” She kisses down his jaw, to his neck and the mark she’d left there last night.

“I know.”

Despite his words he still holds her tightly, callused thumbs running a circular pattern over the small of her back under her shirt.

“ _She walks like beauty,”_ Dick starts, and Eleanor feels a smile spread across her lips, hiding her face against his neck. _“Like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies.”_ That’s one of her favourite poems. Not because she’d found it herself, but because he’d surprised her with it years ago, and well, reciting poetry had always been one of her favourite ways of expressing herself.

“Dick.”

She’s not sure if her tone is exasperated or fond but Dick laughs loudly then presses a kiss to her temple before letting her go, she too steps away. Although a bit reluctantly.

“Call me later?”

“Yeah,” he nods, the door clicking open behind him. “Have fun with the girls.”

Eleanor leans against the door frame when Dick disappears down the hallway to the elevator. The smile on her face doesn’t leave her for a long while. She reaches up to touch her lips with the tips of her fingers and feels absolutely giddy.

Her life is good right now.

Her relationships are healthy. All of them really. Her and Dick are closer than they’ve been for years, the relationship built on trust, love and support. During the summer she’s been mostly staying at his place in Blüdhaven, and during her semester he’d visit regularly during the weekends. And sure, they still had their silly arguments and foul moods that lead to slammed doors and angry silences but those were normal, and once moods were calmed they talked about it, resolved it. Just like a normal couple would.

She was on good terms with Bruce, in fact Eleanor had never felt closer to her dad. Their working relationship was fantastic, they had lunch at least once a week at the manor and dad had even come to visit her at the university several times.

Eleanor had friends at school too, even if none of them were close enough to her to know her secret identity, she had fun with them, did normal twenty-one-year-old things like go to the movies or clubbing – though Eleanor stayed away from the drinking. Then there were her friends in the superhero community, and her family. Babs, Cass and Steph. They’d all helped her get back into society over the years since she came back, Babs was actually the one who encouraged her to apply for MIT. And Cassandra, after Bruce had taken her in, (properly and not just allowing her to run around Gotham as Batgirl), she’d become the little sister Eleanor never knew she’d wanted. And she knew it sounded cheesy, but Eleanor had been the only girl growing up in a house literally filed with competitive males. Having Cass around was amazing.

Cassandra was quiet most of the time, but unlike herself and Tim it wasn’t because she was shy or withdrawn. She just didn’t know how to express herself. Even after the event with the meta telepath -that rewired her brain to actually process words- it was still difficult for Cass to word her thoughts. Eleanor had loved to teach her how to read and write, to see her learn all the things that was robbed from her by being raised by an assassin like Cain. Yeah, Eleanor thinks. There was very little in this world that she wouldn’t do to keep that girl safe, to keep her happy.

Then there was Stephanie Brown. Tim Drake’s girlfriend. Or not. Eleanor honestly wasn’t sure, they seemed to not have their minds made up about that either. Steph was the normality in their little group. Despite having a villain like Cluemaster as a father, Steph was surprisingly normal. And Eleanor didn’t mean that in a bad way. Steph just _got_ people. Something that Eleanor herself was terrible at. Stephanie was that little devil on your shoulder that dared you to do something so embarrassing you’d want to bury your head underground for _weeks._ But also the kind that had your back and wouldn’t let you face anything alone.

And Barbara. Did she need to give words to Barbara Gordon? She was… a very, very, _very_ honest friend. Sometimes too honest, and sometimes she just saw too much, and she was also one of the strongest people Eleanor knew. The woman also helped Eleanor get perspective by calling her on her bullshit. Barbara was an acquired taste, no doubt. Eleanor wouldn’t have it any other way.

Later she brings a bottle of Babs’ favourite wine to the clocktower. Cass and Steph are already there, she can hear them from the kitchen, or rather, she can hear Steph telling Cass about her training as _Robin._

“You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be,” Barbara says, opening the bottle as Eleanor places a wine glass in front of her, before pouring some of the iced tea that Alfred would really turn his nose up at into her own cup.

“Dick left for upstate New York,” she replies. “Helping out with Haly’s.”

“So… It’s going well then?” Babs asks, shooting Eleanor a smug smile. “I mean, you’ve been dating for, what was it? A month?”

“Five weeks, two days.” She replies, “and it is, going well I mean. We’re good, it’s…” Eleanor laughs quietly, she’s fairly certain that there’s a stupid goofy smile on her face. “It’s really good Babs.”

“About time.” The older says, arms crossed. “It’s like I’ve always said. You balance each other out. He’s too aloof without you and you’re too grumpy without him.”

“I’m not grumpy!” Eleanor protests just as Steph and Cass walk into the kitchen.

“You are too,” Steph grins.

“Am not!” She splutters, looking at Cass to help her out, her younger sister just smiles smugly. Learnt too much from Barbara that one.

“You are a little… Grumpy… Sometimes.” Cass murmurs in a soft voice, “Dick… Helps.”

“I bet.” Steph giggles, wiggling her eyebrows. Cass reaches out to smack the blonde, and Steph just laughs louder. Both Eleanor and Barbara groan.

“Okay, I might be a little…” Eleanor pauses eyeing her friends. “…Withdrawn.”

“That’s one word for it.” Babs hums innocently.

“I’ve gotten better.” Eleanor defends, or at least she hopes she has. Steph is the one who catches on to her uncertainty and walks over to give her a tight hug.

“You’ve gotten better Elle. We’re just teasing.”

Cassandra gives her a thumbs up before stealing her cup of ice-tea. Eleanor sighs, hugging Stephanie back, it’s really silly how much a simple hug can put one at ease.

“C’mon guys,” Barbara says, gesturing with one hand towards the door. A minute later they’re all sat in the slightly uncomfortable couches that furnish the Clocktower interior. Stephanie eagerly telling all of them about her training.

“-We’ve only really stopped like muggings and stuffs so far,” she continues, “but I think I’m ready for the big shots. I mean, I still got like loads of training to do but I’m not a total rookie, y’know?”

It clicks with Eleanor why she likes Stephanie so much in that moment. She reminds her of Jason. Leaping before looking, too eager. The thought leaves her feeling hot and cold. They can’t let what happened to Jay happen to someone else.

“Too… Eager.” Cass says, poking Steph in the arm. Wording Eleanor’s thought’s out loud.

“I know I’m not as good as Tim was, but…” Steph shrugs, her blonde hair falling into her face. “I can do this. I know I can.”

“Just try to pace yourself, hon.” Barbara offers, “Bruce can be a total hard ass about the training, but that’s just how he shows that he cares.”

Eleanor hums in agreement.

“Speaking of dads,” Steph starts, turning to Barbara. “Any chance you could convince yours to go back being GCPD Commissioner?”

“Why? Not a fan of Commissioner Atkins?”

The blonde shrugs, “it’s more like he’s not a fan of us.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor nods, “I’ve also noticed that he seems, well, jealous?”

“Right?” Steph says, sitting up a bit straighter. “Like he’s got personal beef with B.”

“Dad said he’s a good guy,” Barbara interrupts, “Bruce is just being sore over dad leaving so that’s why he’s making it hard for Atkins.”

“He’s been commissioner since No Man’s Land, Babs.” Eleanor counters, “I respect your dad’s decision to retire, but Atkins hasn’t exactly made it any easier.”

“This job has never been easy Eleanor.”

“I guess… He hasn’t set the entire GCPD at us, yet.” Steph says, relaxing back into the couch. “What do you think Cass?”

Cassandra shrugs, “don’t… know. Haven’t seen… him.”

There’s a momentary lull in the conversation, everyone seemingly thinking over each other’s points of views. Then Steph turns towards her with a glint in her eye that tells her the next subject is going to be very – for a lack of a better term – Stephanie-y.

“Sooo…” She starts innocently, there’s not a single soul in the room that believes the act.

“So…?” Eleanor reluctantly asks.

“You and your boyfriend. The former Boy Wonder… One part of the dynamic duo.”

She sighs, not bothering to reply and takes a sip of her ice-tea instead.

“When are you going to propose?”

Eleanor inhales her drink, spluttering and coughing as all of her friends laugh at her. Traitors.

“Propose?!” She rasps. Cass offers her a napkin to which Eleanor does her best to clean up after herself. Her brain going five-hundred-thousand miles an hour. Marriage. Who had put that idea in Stephanie’s head? Had Dick hinted something at Barbara? And Steph had somehow overheard it? No, they’d both agreed on taking it slow. Marriage was a big step, it was too soon. Not that she wasn’t totally opposed to the idea, Eleanor Grayson just had a nice ring to it. Or would they hyphen? Grayson-Wayne. Wayne-Grayson.

No, bad Eleanor. Not too fast, remember!

“Yeah, you two are like the cutest couple.” Steph continues with her evil devil smile. Eleanor was going to throttle her. Or at least kick her butt in training later this week.

“We’ve been dating for a month, Stephanie.”

The blonde waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, and like years before that.” She grins. “Tim told me.”

“Of course he did.”

“Besides,” Steph quickly adds, trying to protect Tim no doubt. “It used to be in literally every gossip magazine, the Wayne heiress and the ward Bruce Wayne took in? C’mon, like I wouldn’t know.”

“She’s got a point.” Barbara says, Eleanor does the mature thing and pokes her tongue out at the redhead.

They all stare at her. Eleanor’s mind comes up blank.

“We’re _not_ getting married! Or engaged! Or whatever! We’re taking it slow.”

“Aww.” Steph complains. “And here I already had a maid of honour dress picked out.”

“Do… not.” Cass grins, again leaning over to poke at Steph who this time retaliates by throwing her arms around Cass’s shoulders.

“You guys are the worst.” Eleanor half-heartedly complains, she was fairly certain she’d just aged prematurely by just being in the same room as them. Barbara pats her knee gently.

“And that’s why you love us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for reading, leave a comment or a kudos if you feel like it! :)  
> Work is named after "Brand New" by Ben Rector. Lyrics in the summary is from the same song.  
> First quote is by Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice.  
> Second quote is by Oscare Wilde.  
> The poem Dick quotes is by Lord Byron.
> 
> Warnings and rating will change as the chapters progress.


	2. Like a heartbeat skip, like an open page

It feels like she’s just laid down in her bed after getting home from a couple of hours patrol when her doorbell rings. The shrill noise is enough to startle her awake, her heart pounding in her chest as she rubs at her face, groaning. It’s also the point where Eleanor realises that she’d only gotten halfway out of her suit, or rather, she’d gotten most of it off bar the trousers. And as comfortable as she was in the black triple-weave kevlar it wasn’t really that nice to sleep in it.

Another shrill ring of the bell reminds her why she’d woken up in the first place and she quickly removes the remains of her suit and puts on a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top. She almost stumbles on her combat boots on her way out of the bedroom, tugging her hair loose of the braid she’d put it in several hours ago. She’s also reminded of the bruise on her bicep, though the kevlar had stopped her arm from breaking, the impact of the iron pipe one of the thugs had managed to hit her with still left her feeling extremely sore.

There weren’t that many people who would come knocking at three in the morning, yet the paranoid part of her leans up to peer through the peephole. What Eleanor sees make her fumble with the lock before yanking the door open. Dick raises his head, no tears escape his eyes at this moment, yet she can see that he has been crying from the soot that covers his face. For the longest of seconds he stares at her, before stumbling forward into her arms.

“I tried to get them all out.” He sobs, breath hitching on almost every word. Eleanor nudges the door shut, then cradles him to her, combing her fingers through his hair. He smells like ash.

She wants to ask him what happened, wants to know who caused him to feel like this so she could do something about the cold worry that flickers to life inside her. What had happened at the circus? A fire? Dick sags against her, sinking them both to the floor, still clinging to her as if she’s the only thing that’s keeping him afloat.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, rubbing his back. “You’re going to be okay.”

He sniffles. Unevenly breathing against her neck, fingers digging into her waist. Eleanor doesn’t mind that his blunted nails feel uncomfortable against her thin top. Or that after a while her knees start to feel numb or that the left side of her neck go damp from his tears. Instead she rocks him gently, hushing him when his shuddering sobs stats to pick up and combs her fingers soothingly through his hair. When he eventually pulls himself together, he leans back, exhaustion is visible in his eyes, yet he opens his mouth to say something. To apologize.

Eleanor cups his face, stroking her thumbs over his tear stained cheeks, smearing the ash that rests there, away. “You can tell me everything tomorrow if you want, okay sunshine?”

Dick closes his eyes, nodding slowly.

“How about a shower? And some rest.” She says, guiding him to his feet. Again, he gives her a silent nod.

She leads him to the bathroom, helps him undress and turn the water on in the large shower. Then leaves him under the stream to find some clean clothes for him to wear. Glad that they’d had to forethought to actually leave some of Dick’s clothes in her apartment. When she glances up at the mirror above her dresser her own face is smeared with ash. Silently Eleanor walks out to the kitchen and scrubs herself clean as best she can. She’d need to get new clothes too, she decides. She puts all the ash smelling ones in the laundry basket and pushes it into the corner of the room so that Dick wouldn’t have to deal with it.

When Eleanor gets back to the bathroom Dick’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips and wet black hair dripping on to his back and down the soft fuzzy blue carpet he’s stood on. She offers him a reassuring smile when he looks at her through the steam covered mirror. Placing the bundle of clothes on the sink.

“Thank you.” He whispers quietly, tough she doubts it’s for the clothes.

“Always,” she says, touching his shoulder soothingly. Dick’s head drops and he takes several deep breaths. The technique that Bruce had taught them when they started their training, to slow their heartrate and gain focus.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eleanor asks, dropping her hand.

He shakes his head. “’m not hungry.”

She strokes some of the wet strands of his hair away from his face. Hollow blue eyes flickers to hers, Eleanor hates how small that spark that usually filled him with so much life is at his moment, hates whatever it was that cause him to feel like this. Maybe her anger shows on her face because Dick looks away from her almost immediately.

“Sorry.”

She swallows back the need to pull him into her arms. “None of that,” Eleanor says instead, trying to channel her inner Alfred. “C’mon.” She holds out the tee she picked out for him, and Dick without a word takes it and pulls it over his head. Then puts his boxers on too. Eleanor watches him start to clean up with a confused look on her face.

Now, he wasn’t averse to picking up after himself. Though his usual way of going by things were ‘it can wait until tomorrow’. Or the day after tomorrow. Eleanor was usually the one cleaning up, and honestly she didn’t mind it. That is, unless she was too bone tired to do it, those times she gladly adopted Dick’s ideals about cleaning.

“Hey,” Eleanor says, trying to get his attention. “Dick, hey. We can deal with this tomorrow. Babe?” When she doesn’t get a reply, Eleanor wraps her arms around him, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. He takes another shuddering breath, trying to hold himself together by sheer will.

“Sorry.” He croaks out again. “’m so sorry.” Eleanor wonders who he’s apologizing to, who he’s seeing. She doesn’t know what to say, she hates feeling this helpless. Hates seeing him like this. Eleanor holds him tighter, until that bruise on her arm starts to throb in protest.

“I’m okay.” Dick says after a couple of minutes of just breathing together. He turns, resting his head against hers. “Can we… just sleep?”

“Yeah,” Eleanor murmurs back, leading them both out of the bathroom and to her bedroom. Kicking the remains of her suit out of the way. Dick doesn’t make a single sound as they lay down in the bed together. Instead he curls close around her, pressing his face to her neck and passes out with her hand rubbing his back.

It takes her far longer to settle down, the past couple of days she’d had a weird feeling in her stomach, like there was something coming, or something that were gonna happen. And she’d done her best to ignore it because everything was going so well lately. She hadn’t wanted to look deeper into it, hadn’t wanted to fall back into those old pessimistic views of the world. Not when everything had been going so well.

After everything they’ve been through, they could get through this as well. She wouldn’t let them fall apart now. Whatever he needed, whatever it was she could do. She would.

_“More than twenty feared dead and over one hundred seriously injured from a fire that broke out six hours ago in a crowded circus tent in upstate New York. Sources claim that the infamous Garfield Lynns, otherwise known as Firefly, was the cause of-”_

Eleanor watches the news report through what feels like a wall of water. Tuning out the reporter as he drones on about casualties and pictures of the tents having been reduced to nothing more than ash and soot.

It made no sense, Firefly may be a lunatic, but he usually had some sort of twisted reason for the targets he chose. Since he grew up in the poor part of Gotham a monetary target wasn’t out of the question, but Eleanor had seen _and_ been told from someone with first-hand experience how poor the circus life actually was. Symbolic targets were also something Firefly would potentially go for, like fire stations or other firefighting related buildings or people. Unless… No, that couldn’t be possible. The only other reason she could think of would be… but no. Firefly wasn’t smart enough to figure that out. Right? He’s a pyromaniac arsonist, not a criminal mastermind. The only other conclusion would be that someone hired him to do it.

“It was a personal attack.” Dick says behind her. Eleanor spins on the spot, pressing the mute button on the remote at the same time. She hadn’t been able to sleep much, having just gotten up and turned on the news. She’d hoped that Dick would’ve sleep longer, but he’s dressed in a pair of jeans, looking like he’s got no inclination to going back to bed.

“You think…?”

“The only way to tie Nightwing to Haly’s is through Dick Grayson. It was personal.” Dick’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. She can see the fire of the photos reflecting in his blue eyes.

“Firefly isn’t that smart.”

“Oleg, the trapeze artist that died. He OD’d on benzodiazepines, which relaxes muscle control, acrobats don’t usually use that, and on top of that he wasn’t dressed when they found him.”

Eleanor sits down on the sofas armrest, pressing the remote against her chin. “People that commit suicide don’t usually do so naked.” They knew that someone would find them.

“Exactly. Someone had Oleg killed to draw me there, then hired Firefly to burn it down while I was helpless to stop it.”

“Who hired him?” Who would want to hurt Dick like this? No it wasn’t about Dick, it was about Nightwing.

“I don’t know.” Dick mutters darkly, eyes still on the TV screen. Eleanor aims the remote and turns it off, forcing his gaze away from the flaming remains of his childhood. She doesn’t like this darkness in his eyes, doesn’t like how calculating it is. It reminds her too much of… of Bruce.

“You don’t know or you’re not going to tell me?” She eyes him carefully, claiming not knowing and then going after it alone is something that wasn’t unique to her dad. But when he looks at her after a moment of silence, there’s not that cold calculating look. Instead it’s anger, but also worry, and hurt. He steps around the couch and takes her hand in his.

“I don’t know, genuinely I...” He sighs. “I’ve put you all in danger. You. Tim. Cass. Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

“We knew it might happen. I don’t blame you.” She says, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“ _I_ blame myself. The fire… All those people...”

“That’s not your fault Dick. You didn’t hire Firefly to do it.” Eleanor knows he won’t see the logic of her words, and even if he did, well, it wouldn’t take away the unbearable feeling of guilt. She knows because, while it had never involved her secret identity, she too had been responsible for people, and she too had lost.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Dick says, jaw clenched. “All that matters is finding out who did this.” _And making sure they pay_. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he might as well have.

“Making sure they go to prison.” Eleanor says, it’s an automatic response. One drilled into her since she first put on the proverbial cape.

He blinks. “Yeah. Prison.” He drops her hand and grips his hair instead, stalking away from her with a huff. Frustration bleeding into his body language.

“I need to get back to ‘Haven.”

“Babe, hey.” She follows him, cupping his face between her hands, “you’re running on less than two hours sleep, you need to rest.”

“Would you be able to sleep?” He asks quietly, hands falling down to his side. Eleanor smooths hers over his shoulders. She couldn’t answer that without lying.

“This can’t wait, Ellie. Our identities are in danger. Whoever’s done this, what’s to say they’ll stop with me? What if they make the connection with everyone else? Sell that information to other criminals, it’d be… it would be a catastrophe. All the work we’ve done over the past… thirteen years, it would be undone…”

“I know. I know. But…” _getting yourself killed in the process would help no one._ Eleanor is pleading with her eyes, she knows she is. The need to protect him warring with the want to make sure that the rest of their family and friends identities stay safe.

Dick tugs her in to a tight hug, resting his head against her shoulder, nose brushing her neck. “There’s something else too.” He murmurs. “I need you to stay in Gotham.”

“What? No.” Eleanor struggles to push him away, but he holds her tightly. Yet it’s not enough to hurt her in any way. She knew she could get out of his koala hug if she truly wanted to.

“Just listen.” He continues. “Coming with me to ‘Haven would just put you in danger.”

Eleanor opens her mouth to argue back but he silences her with a gentle squeeze.

“We don’t have as many allies in ‘Haven, most of the city is corrupt, you know that.”

“All the more reason for me to come with you!” She snaps.

“You have a target on your back just for knowing me,” Dick pulls back from the hug, cupping the back of her head and tangling his fingers in her hair. “And if this person who’s figured out my identity is worth their salt they would know how much you mean to me. How crippling it would be to lose you when I’ve just gotten-…” He stops abruptly.

“Dick…”

“Until I figure out who it is. Please, Ellie… I-I need you to stay safe, here, in Gotham where we have allies to watch our backs.”

Staying safe in Gotham sounds ridiculous, she doesn’t know if she should laugh, cry or throw herself into hysterics. “And you don’t think it would be crippling for me to lose you?”

“I know Blüdhaven better than you, babe.” Another smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and yet he’s right, they both know it. If she came with him she’d only slow him down, or worse, get them both killed.

“I hate this.” So, so, _so_ much.

“I know.”

Eleanor huffs at the reply. Then she reaches up and grips him by the back of the head, as if to shake him.

“Okay, we do it your way. But you have got to promise me, the moment you learn who’s behind this you’ll tell me. Then I’ll come help you.”

“I promise.” Then he leans in and kisses her, once, twice. Hard and needy, desperate and life affirming. It feels too much like a goodbye, Eleanor doesn’t want to let him go. Again and again, until her lips feel bruised and she still can’t make herself let go of him. ‘You better come back to me’, she tries to convey through her kisses. Eventually they become less frantic, until he rests his forehead against hers.

“Will you tell them?”

Eleanor nods. Then. “This isn’t a goodbye.”

“No. Never.”

Three hours after Dick leaves for Blüdhaven and she hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. After he left she’d engaged her security protocols. She was virtually untouchable in her apartment with top of the line Wayne security. In fact the whole building had been upgraded by Bruce when she’d bought the place. His special way of showing he cared without actually saying anything.

She sends the Alpha-three alert to the cave, letting every bat-affiliate know that their identities might be compromised, and the precautions to take to avoid detection. Barbara messages her three minutes after the alert goes out. Just checking in, offering an ear. Eleanor doesn’t really feel like talking, something the redhead picks up on and quickly leaves her be.

Which leads Eleanor to this moment, a moment which she could have avoided if she hadn’t made the most stupid decision she could have. After three hours of restless pacing, of feeling trapped in her own home. She goes out. Just to the café across the street, just a quick breath of fresh air. It really is an amateur mistake, but she rationalises it as needing to take her mind off Dick running around Blüdhaven without backup before she tears her hair out. Besides, she didn’t think anyone will try anything in the middle of the day, in a crowded area. Her mistake.

Using only one type of martial art to defend herself against a trained killer is hard. Brutale is definitely not in the same class assassin as Deathstroke or Lady Shiva which, thank god honestly. But he’s not lived this long by being easy to beat. Aikido is the backbone of her own harmonious mix up of martial arts, even though she would prefer to throw in some krav maga and jiu-jitsu. The people of Gotham know she’s got a black belt in aikido, ‘for my own protection’ she’d told the reporters when they’d asked, and since she refused a bodyguard it seemed reasonable enough. It also helped explain her two years off grid after Jason’s death. Exercise was a good way of working through grief after all.

How to defend yourself while protecting your attacker from injury. That was the main philosophy for aikido.

Brutale wasn’t making that easy.

The assassin thrusts a razor-sharp blade towards her, it slices through her t-shirt but doesn’t draw blood. She’s quick enough to grab hold of his wrist with her right hand, and over his elbow with her left before twisting the nerve there. Brutale grunts as she forces him to step forward and then downward. Before she can pin him to the ground he twists his free arm and slashes through her thigh. The cut doesn’t hit anything major and it doesn’t really hurt that much, she’s had way worse. But it allows him to break out of the grapple and force her to take cover as he throws another knife in her direction.

“Didn’t know that a spoiled _princesa_ would put up that much of a fight. This might just be interesting after all.”

“Who sent you?!” Eleanor calls playing up her panic, not allowing herself to be as cold in her tone as she would be in costume. One of the waiters of the café whimpers next to her, and Eleanor presses her fingers against her lips to hush the woman. Who nods, then slaps her hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

“That would be telling, _hermana._ ”

Eleanor picks up a porcelain mug that had somehow survived it’s fall when the table had been flipped not seconds earlier. She meets the terrified woman’s eyes.

“When I throw this, run. Okay? Run and don’t look back. Nod if you understand.” She says in a firm but quiet voice. The woman nods.

The mug hits Brutale straight in the head, and it throws him off enough that the when the waitress starts running, he doesn’t get a chance of flinging another knife before Eleanor’s back up in his face. She tackles him, which is definitely _not_ a part of aikido. She’s starting to regret telling the public that the martial art was the only one she knew. It’s not aggressive, it’s defensive. And terrible when you’re facing an opponent that likes to throw knifes at you. (Even if she could catch them).

Brutale grabs at her wrist, Eleanor allows it and in a split second she’s twisted around him and using the inside of her elbow to throw him down onto the hard linoleum floor. It’s foolish of her to assume that he’s down for the count, even with the slightly more exaggerated force she’d used to knock his head down and she pays for it.

If she’d been in her suit it wouldn’t have mattered, the knife probably wouldn’t even have left a mark on the armour. But the flimsy piece of cotton that she’s wearing doesn’t stand a chance, it cuts through the tee like a hot knife through butter and slashes a deep wound into her waist, just below her ribs.

Eleanor bites down hard to muffle the yelp of pain just as the sirens of cop cars stop outside the café. She stumbles away from Brutale, who groaning gets up from the ground, looking her over before his attention snaps to the mess of police outside the window.

“We’ll have to have a re-do of this later, _princesa_.” He says, he sounds a bit dazed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your number.”

It takes the police officers approximately ten seconds to get into the shop, it takes Brutale five to dash to the back door behind the counter and disappear.

“He went that way,” she groans, pointing in the only other direction when the officers stop nearby her.

“Can you move ma’am?” The man that crouches down next to her is in his mid-thirties, the name tag on the right side of his uniform identifies him as Officer Fumero. Eleanor grumbles under her breath as she stands, more annoyed at her stupidity and recklessness than actually hurt. The officer helps her outside and then guides her to apply pressure at the two wounds, five minutes later the ambulance she hadn’t wanted arrives at the scene and a paramedic dresses her wounds properly. She’ll need stiches, she knows, at least for the slash under her ribs. So reluctantly she gets in the ambulance and sends a message to Alfred who she knows will relay it to Bruce.

The nurse that stiches her up is nice enough to not ask too many questions, hopefully reading Eleanor’s foul mood. There’s already a news reporter on TV detailing her latest ‘heroics’, apparently the waitress from the store had told them what she’d done and _“Eleanor Wayne once again defy death at the hands of a masked would be assassin, according to witnesses, the Wayne heiress utilized her impressive knowledge of martial arts to keep the perpetrator at bay.”_

Eleanor sighs, Bruce isn’t going to like that.

Later after Alfred picks her up from outside the hospital, after having answered a dozen questions that are all different ways of asking _“Do you know who attacked you? Or why?”_. With the same reply of _“No idea, Officer. I assume it was about money.”_ The police offer her a protective detail to shadow her if the perp makes another attempt at her life. Something she immediately refuses, claiming that she’d be safe enough in the manor. There’s only really one more place on earth that she’d say would be more protected and that would be Superman’s Fortress of Solitude in the arctic.

Eleanor goes straight for the cave once they get back to the manor, before she can start working on anything to keep her mind busy Alfred guides her over to the medical bed with a look that Eleanor just can’t argue with. Bruce is by the computer, lost in reports and case files, and doesn’t look up when he starts speaking.

“Do you know who attacked you?”

“Yeah-ow,” Eleanor winces as Alfred not to gently redresses her wound, he gives her a very unimpressed glance before rewrapping a clean bandage around her waist. “He’s a Blüdhaven baddie, Brutale.”

“Hm.” Her dad is still dressed in his civvies. It was still too early for Batman to be out on the streets. “Did he tell you anything?”

“Only that he’d try again.” Eleanor replies, pulling her shirt back down once Alfred is done. She jumps off the bed, walking up to where Bruce is stood by the computer. There’s a video of the fight playing on one of the screens.

“You managed to only use aikido while fighting him, beside the tackle.”

“It was stupid I know, I shouldn’t have left the apartment.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Bruce nods. “But no one will question how you know martial arts even if they study the video.”

“Maybe,” Eleanor hums, leaning against the metal table. “If I had managed to subdue him we might have been able to know who is behind all of this though.”

“Or put yourself and subsequently the rest of us in more danger.” He looks up at her from his chair. “You did good in a situation you could have avoided.”

Honestly, Eleanor doesn’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult. She shakes her head, looking around.

“Where’s Stephanie?”

“I fired her.” Oh, _hello_ left field.

“Why?”

“She didn’t follow orders.”

Alfred’s noisy passive aggressive protest as he cleans up behind them on the medical bed doesn’t pass either of them by. Eleanor watches the old butler work for a long moment before looking back at her dad.

“One strike and out?”

“You disapprove.” Bruce raises an eyebrow, meeting her gaze.

“No, actually.” She purses her lips. “Stephanie reminds me of Jason.”

There’s an almost deafening silence that stretches between them at the mention of the name. Then Bruce looks away, a weary sigh escaping his lungs.

“Yes, she does.”

“But do you really think that she’ll stay out of the game just because she’s no longer Robin? She was Spoiler before that.” Eleanor points out, crossing her arms over her chest, then paces behind the chair, wincing slightly when the arm movement agitates her side. Dad continues to type away at the computer in silence for a moment, Eleanor watches files being updated, and Stephanie’s personal file flagging up on the main screen.

“What do you suggest?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe Babs can do something with her? If she can’t keep up with us, the Birds of Prey might be better suited. I know I’d rather see Stephanie backed up by people that know what they’re doing.”

“Hm.” There’s a rapid clicking of keys being tapped when Eleanor turns to survey the cave. “I’ll bring it up with Barbara.”

“Besides,” Eleanor adds, feeling her lips twitch up in a sly grin. “Dinah introduced Steph to Oliver, would be hilarious.” She wasn’t sure if there was a man, woman or child on earth as annoying as Oliver Queen. Don’t get her wrong, he wasn’t a bad guy, his heart was in the right place. But god could the man be dense, Eleanor swears he does it on purpose too. And Stephanie was her own brand of mischievous. She’d give Oliver a run for his money.

There’s a deep rumbling chuckle from the chair.

Eleanor paces again, despite the momentary distraction her thoughts almost immediately slip back to Dick, and Blüdhaven. She knows he isn’t okay, not mentally. Losing that many people from the circus is no doubt playing havoc in his mind. Not that he can be faulted for it. Anyone would be, and those who aren’t there’s probably something seriously wrong with.

“You’re pacing.” Bruce tells her after another back and forth behind his chair.

“I know.”

“Dick will be fine.”

Eleanor grimaces. “I need take my mind off of it. I’m heading out.”

Bruce spins in the chair, eyes narrowing in her direction. “It’s a bit early. And you’re injured.”

“For Batman maybe. And I’ll be fine in my suit.”

“Be careful.” He nods, turning back to the computer. Eleanor hums a somewhat agreeing note on her way over to the extra suits, ignoring the disapproving eyes of Alfred further in the room. She knew the older man only wanted what was best for her, but she was twenty-one, not a little girl anymore, she could take care of herself. Though, Eleanor doubted that Alfred would ever not slightly disapprove of their chosen lifestyle. Even if he was proud of them. Much like a parent would be proud of their child choosing to defend their country as a soldier, they would still fear for said child’s safety.

The Blackbird suit is an amazing piece of technology. Completely black, and darker in bright light with a purple bird on the chest to honour her origins. All with the latest of defensive materials that cost a ridiculous amount of money to produce. Completed with a thigh holster attached to her utility belt in the same purple colour for her collapsible, electrified bō-staff. She always preferred to have her hood up when running around Gotham fighting criminals, it meant that less of them could get any bright ideas and try and yank her braided hair. (It had happened once, and she’d had a sore scalp for what felt like days afterward). And despite both the Batsuit and the other various other suits that utilized a cape, Eleanor had always preferred the lighter movement of not having one. Her favourite part of the it though, was the built-in computer in her left glove, it hooked straight in to her own databanks which in turn linked to Oracle’s and the Cave computers.

It was all in all, a masterpiece of technological engineering. Lucius Fox had truly outdone himself.

She puts on the domino, straddles her bike and ignites the engine. The machine purrs to life beneath her and that feeling of excitement builds inside her. Eleanor revs the engine and the responding roar makes her smile. She built this bike, with a bit of help from Mr. Fox of course. It could do zero to sixty in point eight seconds. With a top speed of three hundred and fifty miles per hour. On top of that it’s also got a civilian camouflage mode. So it can literally be what she needs it to be.

The sun is low in the sky by the time she gets to Robert Kane memorial bridge. Eleanor flicks on her communicator, connecting to the open channel from the Clocktower.

“You there, O?”

There’s a slight crackle on the other end. _“My work never ends.”_ Comes the dry reply. Eleanor chuckles.

“What have you got for me?”

 _“You do know it’s still daylight outside right?”_ Barbara snarks. _“Bats are nocturnal creatures.”_

“Early bird gets the worm and all that.” Eleanor deflects, weaving through the late afternoon traffic, several cars honk their horn at her very illegal driving.

_“Oh, it’s okay when you make that joke is it?”_

“Oracle.”

Barbara huffs, _“you’re no fun. Newton, third avenue, corner of Sterling drive, an ATM robbery. Sending GPS coordinates now.”_

Her gauntlet pings the data Barbara sends her way, and she switches to the GPS HUD on her domino lenses, the high-tech mask immediately showing her the quickest route.

“Thanks O, remind me to pick up something nice for you.”

_“I’m keeping track of all these promises, you know.”_

Eleanor chuckles.

An hour and four ATM robberies later Eleanor sighs as she handcuffs the woman who thought she’d be able to get away in high heels to a dumpster.

“Are you deliberately only sending me after these things, O?” She asks into her comm.

“Who the fuck are you talking to you freak?” The would-be thief grumbles.

“Be a good girl and wait for the police.” Eleanor replies, before grappling up to the rooftops. The woman shouts profanities that would make a sailor blush after her.

 _“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Blackbird.”_ Barbara replies sweetly.

Eleanor huffs in disbelief, Barbara could be extremely petty if she really wanted to. Though she doubted that the older woman would actively steer Eleanor away from someone who’s life was threatened in favour of catching a thief. And… She supposes that if the most exciting thing were ATM thefts she should be grateful.

It was doing very little of taking her mind off things though.

“Any news on Brutale?” Eleanor takes a running jump, leaping to a nearby building.

 _“None, I’ve checked the cameras in that area three times. Several blind spots.”_ Barbara replies. _“In other news though, it seems like Eleanor Wayne bought herself some fame points. There’s a security cam video of you circulating the net, people are very impressed with your martial arts. It’s reached trending on Twitter.”_

“It’s just aikido, there are literally thousands of people with a black belt in that.”

_“But none of those black belt masters fight masked villains in half ruined coffee shops.”_

Yeah, okay that’s fair. Maybe if Eleanor didn’t know ten other martial arts she’d be impressed too. Eleanor jumps to another building, tucking into a roll to keep up momentum. “They’ll be over it in a couple of days, just you wait. There’ll be a cute husky or a sighting of Superman.”

 _“The internet’s attention span is truly rem-…”_ She cuts herself off mid-sentence.

“Oracle?”

 _“Sending a feed to your gauntlet,”_ Barbara’s voice takes on a hard note, a serious note. It makes Eleanor’s stomach curl with nerves. The holographic screen flickers to life with a quick button press, Eleanor’s eyes immediately filling with familiar reds, oranges and blacks. Her ears receiving the higher pitched voice of a blonde reporter.

 _“We just arrived at the scene of a bombing in downtown Melville, where an entire building on Parkthorne Avenue just collapsed. Police and emergency services are at the location. So far no survivors have been found.”_ The camera jostles, and the blonde reporter starts running towards something black and blue that’s so familiar to Eleanor, she recognizes him even as a blur on the small screen.

 _“Well, well… A catastrophe big enough to lure our handsome, local vigilante out into the light of day.”_ The woman continues, clearly ignoring the dangers of the remains of the building she’s trampling all over. _“Any comments you’d like to make on the record? Nightwing, isn’t it?”_

Eleanor sees him tense up, sees the anger and the pain coil inside him before the feed goes blank with the last thing recorded was a blue striped fist colliding with the lens. The video cuts to another reporter back in a studio, but at that point all Eleanor can hear is the rush of water or static in her ears.

“How long ago.” She croaks out, forcing herself to snap out of it.

 _“An hour.”_ Barbara replies. _“I’ve tried the comms, I’m not getting a reply.”_

“The suit?”

 _“No emergency defib alerts.”_ That’s a relief, that means he’s still alive. Alive and livid. Eleanor curses loudly, she should have been there.

“I-,“ Eleanor starts, Barbara interrupts her with a curse.

_“We’ve got a hostage situation at Gotham General.”_

“I-,” she starts again, she can’t. Dick needs her. He’s hurting.

 _“Eleanor.”_ Barbara hisses in her ear, breaking protocol. _“Dick can take care of himself. Right now there’s a bunch of terrified civilians in a hospital_ that need your help _.”_

Despite the urgency in Barbara’s voice Eleanor still hesitates. Mind reeling back to the pictures in the news report. _“So far no survivors have been found.”_ Yoska. The Hogan’s. Dave, Kessia and their two daughters. Old and kind retired John Law. And Aaron, poor Aaron. She reaches up and digs her gloved fingers through her hair in frustration, hood falling down. All those people. All those neighbours and friends. And Eleanor hadn’t known them for quite as long as Dick had.

 _“Blackbird.”_ Barbara barks.

“God fucking damnit.” She snarls. Then she’s moving back towards her bike. Barbara is right, but that doesn’t make the decision any easier.

_“Batman and Batgirl are on their way, I’m re-routing traffic for you.”_

Eleanor gets to her bike, revving the engine and speeding down the emptying lanes towards the hospital. The GPS tells her it’s going to take five minutes thanks to Barbara’s help with the traffic.

“Who is it?” She shouts into the comm. For a long moment there’s no reply from Barbara, to the point where she thinks the older woman might not have heard her at all. Then, in a cold, monotone voice Barbara replies.

_“Joker.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated :3


	3. I fell for you like autumn leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut.

_Blüdhaven_   
_1013 Parkthorne Avenue_   
_Two weeks prior._

Eleanor stares in disbelief at the three different kinds of colourful boxes in the open cupboard. Cap’n Crunch, Froot Loops and Cocoa Puffs stare right back. The horrifying part is that there’s more than one of each brand.

“Dick!” She calls over her shoulder, picking up the bright red box of sweetened cereal. Eleanor hears his muffled reply from the other room, before he walks out with only a pair of shorts on and a towel around his shoulder.

“Oh,” he says when he spots her. “That’s where my shirt went.”

She ignores him, holding up the opened box. “This is an unhealthy amount of sugar.” It blows her mind sometimes how good a shape he is in, considering all the bad things he shovels down his mouth. He hangs the damp towel over the back of one of the chairs.

“Hey, Cap’n Crunch is my favourite.” Dick takes the box from her, then puts it down on the kitchen bench below the cupboards to her right.

“It’s pure sugar, Dick!”

“I guess that explains why I’m so sweet, then.” Dick says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, wrapping his arm around her waist. Eleanor doesn’t hold back the groan or the roll of her eyes. He kisses her gently, tasting like the sweet mint toothpaste he’s so fond of.

“You look really good in my shirt by the way.”

Eleanor smirks, “focus Dickie, breakfast.” Lunch would be a closer proximate, they’d woken up at ten, and hadn’t gotten out of the bed until eleven.

“Are you volunteering making it?”

“I checked your fridge,” Eleanor murmurs after another kiss. “There’s literally nothing there that could be defined as a healthy breakfast in it.”

“Guess we’re having cereal.” He chuckles, leaning away from her just enough so that she can see the bright blue of his eyes.

“And your milk went out yesterday.”

“Did it smell bad?”

“Dick.” Eleanor says, somewhat fond, somewhat exasperated.

“What? The smell test is legitimate, also, no food waste.”

She groans. “I’m not having Cap’n Crunch for breakfast.”

“We could always go out to eat,” he says, fingers sliding up the outside of her bare thighs, to the hem of his shirt. “But I’d need this back.”

“I supposed that it could be negotiated for.” She murmurs, looking at him through her eyelashes, feeling coquettish.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Dick says, leaning in to ghost his lips over her cheek, to the corner of her mouth. Eleanor hums against his lips, before guiding him around so that he’s the one with his back against the kitchen bench. Dick goes willingly, ignorant of her scheming. They kiss again, and again. Small, quick kisses between smiles. Then she slips out of his arms and takes off towards the bedroom, she hears the startled noise of protest from him and then the thunder of footsteps as he gives chase.

Eleanor leaps onto the bed, snatching a pillow up with one hand and throwing it with deadly accuracy behind her, it nails him straight in the face.

“Now you’re in trouble!” Dick calls, with a wide grin on his lips.

“I’ll never give up this shirt alive, Officer.” As the words leave her mouth, Dick steps up into the bed, and Eleanor quickly leaps off. She gets about three feet away from it before his arms encircle her waist and pulls her backwards into the bed, the squeal that leaves her lips may or may not be voluntary. The frame groans in protest when she struggles against him, peals of laughter escaping both of them. The struggling turns into play wrestling, until Dick is on top of her, Eleanor’s hair spread out over the mattress and his hands pinning down her wrists.

“Oh no,” she murmurs slyly. “You caught me.”

“You’re in possession of stolen property, ma’am.”

“Please Officer.” Eleanor says, this time not being able to hold back the giggle that bubbles out of her throat. “I can’t go to prison, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Dick leans down, hiding his grin against her cheek. His freshly shaven jaw feels very nice against her. His lips touch hers as gentle as the flutter of a butterflies wings. Eleanor leans up into it, eager to feel more of him against her. Then he’s kissing her properly, tongue delving through her parted lips, chasing after hers. Eleanor wriggles her wrist free from his grip, burrowing her fingers into the slightly damp silk strands of his obsidian hair.

Subtly, while not breaking their lip lock Dick shifts them on the bed. Gripping her legs he then yanks her sharply into his lap, her knees on either side of his waist. Goosebumps raise in the wake of his hand as he slowly moves it up her right thigh. Their lips part, they exchange short, hot puffs of breath. Dick works his lips down her jaw, over her pulse high on her neck. While he’s distracted marking her -she’ll get him back for that- Eleanor hikes her leg up and then very quickly flips them over.

“Here I thought Blüdhaven’s finest were trained better than that.” She teases, not bothering to hold his hands down. Instead she starts to slowly undo the buttons of his shirt. Enjoying the way his eyes follow the movement. When she pauses, waiting for a reply, he looks up at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Resisting arrest is major misdemeanour ma’am.”

“Oh,” Eleanor says, biting at her lower lip. “And what charges are you arresting me for?”

“Possession of stolen property,” Dick says, propping himself up. “Resisting arrest.” He continues, gripping her butt with both hands and tugging her sharply against him. Eleanor bites back a moan. “And being a minx.”

“I don’t think that last one is an offence.” She giggles breathily. He ducks his head to press open mouthed kisses at her collarbone.

“It is now.” A pause, his teeth grazing against her summer kissed skin. “I’m going to have to ask you to take this off ma’am.” Dick murmurs against her chest, dragging his fingers up the small of her back. Eleanor rolls her hips down against him, feeling more than hearing his responding moan. She grips the back of his head, tilting his head up so that she can kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth this time. Feeling the heat and the pleasure of him against her. With her free hand Eleanor lightly scrapes her nails down his back, in response he bucks up into her. She can feel how hard he is even through his jeans shorts and the groan of frustration from him tells her it can’t be comfortable to still be wearing them.

She blinks, trying to remember what it was he said. Their little game feeling more and more redundant the further they go. “Only if you take yours off.” Eleanor whispers, kissing him again.

“I don’t have a shirt, that’s why we’re in this mess to begin with, ma’am.” That infuriating smirk reappearing over his lips.

“Oh, is it common for all of Blüdhaven’s officers to seduce criminals?”

Dick flips them over again, working on the buttons of his shirt until it’s falling off her shoulders, exposing her bare chest to the heated air between them.

“Only the extremely pretty criminals.” He growls, kissing down her throat to her chest.

“That seems morally-Dick!“ She cuts herself off to moan his name as he bites down on her breast. He laps at her nipple with his hot, wet tongue for a second, blows cool air in the next and envelopes it in warm heat after that. The sensations of hot and cold send sparks down her body and she grips the back of his neck to hold him against her.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that.” She breathily praises when he moves to her other breast. Dick smirks up at her at the compliment, then gives her left nipple the same treatment as the right one. When he starts to kiss lower on her stomach she quickly reaches for him to tug him up again.

“No?” He asks, kissing her shoulder and neck.

“Next time, I want you.”

“You have me.” Dick hums, nuzzling her cheek. Eleanor trails her hands down his sculpted chest until she can undo the button of his shorts, he helps her kick them off. Leaving both of them in their underwear. Patience wearing thin, Eleanor sticks two fingers under the band of his boxers and tugs the cotton down too, freeing his hard erection. Dick’s kiss steals her attention away, then his fingers tug at her underwear and before she knows it he’s crawled back between her legs. Two fingers dip down and curls into her all at once, drawing a muffled moan from her lips.

“Always so wet for me huh?”

“Filthy mouth,” she says breathlessly, not at all complaining.

“You don’t really mean that,” Dick murmurs, kissing her again. His fingers pumping slow and hard in and out of her. “You like my mouth.” And as if to prove a point he leans down and sucks one of her nipples between his lips.

“Oohkay.” Eleanor moans, “you’re right. I love your mouth.”

His chuckle sends vibrations straight to her core, she bucks her hips to get him to speed up. Instead he pulls his fingers out of her, then without pause, brings the same fingers up to his lips and licks them clean. How could one man be so hot? And infuriating at the same time? Eleanor doesn’t think she’ll ever find the answer to those particular questions.

“Come here, you tease.” She murmurs, his fingers make a low ‘pop’ sound as he withdraws them from his lips, blue eyes filled with desire, watching her through dark eyelashes. His erection rubs against her deliciously, sending hot white sparks of pleasure that makes her head tip back and a low almost guttural moan escapes her lips.

“And I’m the tease,” he whispers hotly, propping himself up on one arm next to her shoulder, then reaches down to guide himself into her. Eleanor doesn’t say anything, instead she hitches a leg up over his hip, coaxing him closer to her.

Then he finally enters her, slowly sinking in, until their hips are flush together and chests touching. He stops, lets her adjust to his size, his hair tickling her chin when he mouths hot kisses against her collarbone. No doubt working another hickey onto her feverishly warm skin. It feels almost overwhelming to have him like this.

“Good?” Dick asks, she nuzzles against his temple, running her hands down his sweat covered back. Then to probably both of their surprises Eleanor giggles, the sudden realization of the fact that they’d both already had a shower this morning and now they’d have to have another one being ridiculously funny in her mind.

“What’s so funny?” Dick asks, propping himself up to meet her eyes.

“Nothing.” She murmurs, tentatively rolling her hips up against his. Getting a breathy gasp from Dick as a reward. One of her favourite sounds. “Move.” Eleanor urges, and he does.

Sometimes, when they both were in the right mood, they could draw out sex for a long time, both enjoying bringing the other to the brink of orgasm after orgasm. This isn’t one of those times, as Dick sneaks an arm under her waist, lifting her up slightly and the resulting change in angle expertly hits her sweet spot at every thrust. With one hand her fingers dig into his back, and if it’s painful for him he doesn’t say anything. Instead he meets her eyes, lacing their fingers together with their free hands.

“You’re perfect.” He says. Eleanor moans again, moving her hips up to meet his every thrust. Her hand moves from his back to cup his cheek, pulling his lips to hers in another open-mouthed kiss that’s more teeth and sharing air than actual kissing. Dick presses his cheek against hers, both of them panting as the momentum builds and builds. Eleanor wraps her legs around his waist tightly, allowing him to move his other hand up, cupping her breast and lightly pinching her nipple in time with their hips movement.

 _You’re perfect._ Dick says again and again. He whispers it like she’s a Grecian goddess and he’s worshipping at her alter. Eleanor’s breathing is shallow, gasping and moaning with every movement. She wants to flip them over and make him feel just like she does. Solid against her, inside her. Hot and sweaty and messy. Like she’s unravelling beneath Dick’s touch. It’s sex, but so much more. Eleanor leans into him, pressing her mouth over his sweat slicked skin. Scraping her nails against his golden back, leaving small white lines in their wake and hearing his gasps and moans of pleasure when she rakes her fingers through his hair.

In the heat of their movement Eleanor can’t help but to think back to that ancient legend of soulmates, of how the gods split mankind from the creatures that they used to be, into two separate beings. Despite how cliché it might sound that’s how it feels, finding him, being with him. Dick is one side of her soul, just as Eleanor is one side of his. Being like this, feeling Dick over her, inside her. It makes her believe that the legend might just be true.

“I-…” Eleanor gasps, she’s so close, her heart beats like the fluttering of a hummingbirds wings, caged in her chest. “I’m gonna-…” Another broken off moan, swallowed up by the bedframe rocking hard against the wall, of the sound of skin slapping against skin. He thrusts again and again, his rhythm becoming more and more uneven.

“C’mon,” Dick urges, “open those gorgeous eyes baby, look at me.” Eleanor does, not realizing she’s closed them in the first place. “C’mon, pretty bird. Come for me.” He whispers again, panting, leaning down to press a quick kiss over her heart, then up to watch her again. Another thrust, two, three.

Like her nerves are on fire, the rubber band snaps, stars shine behind her eyelids. Eleanor arches off the bed, not holding back the loud moan as she comes. The whole bed rocking. Dick groans into her neck, a low guttural sound, whispering her name like a prayer, he falls soon behind her. Hips stuttering against hers and warmth floods her insides. They kiss again, warm and slow, feeling floaty and happy.

“Love you,” he mumbles, lips curling in a loopy smile against hers.

“I love you.” Eleanor repeats, holding him to her like she would never let him go. Dick rolls them over, slipping out of her in the process. She bites her lip at the feeling of emptiness. Then chuckles lightly when she feels his hand rub the small of her back – over the shirt.

“I’m keeping the shirt.” Eleanor murmurs lazily. Dick chuckles.

“It’s a good shirt.”

They lay in silence, enjoying each other’s presence and the warm afterglow, then Eleanor’s stomach growls. Her lips curl into a smile against his chest.

“Do you know that you burn a hundred – on average, calories, having sex?”

Dick laughs, it’s loud and boisterous, Eleanor is certain that if the imaginary neighbour – Dr Fledermaus – was a real person they’d be hearing some banging on the walls.

“I’ll take the hint,” he says once his laughter calms down. “The diner down the street?”

“Or,” Eleanor props herself up on his chest, “the one opposite the police station, they serve the best blueberry pancakes.” She pauses, “besides Alfred’s that is.”

“You got it.” He says, rolling out of the bed before she’s done talking, scooping her up bridal style and starts marching them both to the bathroom, while she laughs, holding on to his neck. After another shower that takes longer than it should – they really need to stop showering together because it is definitely not saving water. Eleanor dresses in simple summer clothes, shorts and a tank top that doesn’t belong to Dick this time. Maybe she should be more bothered by the litter of marks Dick’s left on her neck and down to her collar bone and breast, but honestly she’s not at all annoyed by it. Not even the thought of others seeing it makes her uncomfortable. The part of her that longs for belonging is ecstatic by them, because it marks her as _his_.

They’re barely out of the apartment when an old kindly voice calls out from the stairs behind them.

“Ryeka!”

“Oh, hi Yoska.” Dick replies easily, the old Romani man smiles kindly, his thick white moustache curling up to show his teeth. When she’d first heard Yoska call Dick ‘Ryeka’ she’d asked if it meant something in the language. Dick had said it didn’t, that Yoska had just given him that name instead of calling him Richard. A more Romani name.

“And Eleanor! Is good to see again.”

Eleanor smiles at the broken English. She’s about to wave hello when he grabs her upper arms and kisses her cheeks and then into a full-blown bear hug. He smells heavily like tobacco and sunlight. She shoots Dick a puzzled look over Yoska’s shoulder, the bastard has the audacity to smirk back at her.

Yoska pulls back, smiling broadly at her then says something in Romani that Eleanor doesn’t fully understand. Dick however coughs, going completely red-faced and spluttering.

“Yoska!”

“What was that?” She asks, curious.

Yoska’s brow furrows as if he’s thinking. “I said-“

“Nothing!” Dick quickly interrupts, wrapping an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the stairs. “Hey babe, why don’t you get the bike ready?” He hands her both of their helmets. Eleanor huffs, giving her boyfriend a dirty look. A look that she hopes conveys that she’ll get it out of him one way or another. Dick’s returning smile is nervous. She then gives a friendly wave to the old man behind him.

“It was nice to meet you again, Yoska.”

“Yes. Very nice!” The man beams. When he turns back to Dick and starts talking in Romani again, Dick looks more exasperated than anything else when he replies. Eleanor can’t help but feel a bit smug about it.

She’s on the last steps to the first floor when Aaron Helzinger almost backs into her. A former inmate of Arkham Asylum, who through medication and therapy has turned his life around. All though he still retains his childlike nature. Dick told her about the implant Aaron had gotten, the medication keeping him docile enough to be around people again. She even heard that he works as a prison guard now.

“Whoa!” Hand held out to touch his back she quickly lets him know she’s there. Aaron looks over his giant shoulder with a sheepish look on his face.

“Sorry little lady.”

“It’s alright big guy, what have you got there?”

Aaron turns slowly, carefully, between his larger than normal hands he holds a box that looks smaller than it is. When she peers into it two small kittens blink up at her. They’re both short haired calico cats, black, white and orange in a beautiful mix. One with yellow eyes meows loudly while the other with speckled green eyes meeps a bit quieter in response.

“Kittens!” Aaron says, a big toothy grin on his face. Eleanor smiles at the tiny creatures, they couldn’t be older than maybe ten weeks. She shifts the helmets on her right arm, then reaches in to the box and the yellow eyed one sniffs her fingers before butting it’s head against her. A raspy _purr-rup_ escaping it’s tiny malnourished form. She scritches it’s chin, feeling the purring vibrations against her hand.

“Found them on the street.” Aaron continues, large childlike eyes watching the small kittens in wonder. “Gonna take care of them.”

“That’s very nice of you Aaron.”

He nods, watching the kittens with love filled eyes, they’re in good hands.

“Have you named them yet?”

Aaron hums thoughtfully, balancing the box in one hand he reaches in and just hovers his hand, both kittens immediately butt their heads against his giant paw, happily giving their affection to their saviour.

“Peanut and Pumpkin.” He decides then, Eleanor doesn’t bother hiding her smile.

“Oh? Those are cute names.”

“I like peanuts and pumpkins, and I love my kittens.” With that, Aaron continues down to his basement apartment with a happy “goodbye little lady!” and another wave.

Eleanor smiles in return, waving goodbye back.

She’s not sure if she’s surprised to see that the bike is still there when she opens the door. The sleek black matte coloured machine having been left alone since Eleanor got to Dick’s place last night. But maybe people are too scared of Aaron to try and steal anything from this block. Not that they really had to anymore, the guy was a gentle giant.

Balancing the helmets on the seat, she crouches down to undo the lock on the front wheel when she hears familiar footsteps behind her.

“So, are you going to share what Yoska said?” Eleanor asks, standing up and tossing the lock up in the air before catching it again, raising a questioning eyebrow at her boyfriend over her shoulder. Dick smiles sheepishly.

“Uh, you know, it was… uhm…”

“Dick Grayson, are you at a loss for words?”

He pokes his tongue out at her. Eleanor chuckles, grabbing his helmet and tossing it at him, he catches it easily.

“He’s was just being, uh, traditional?”

“Traditional.” She echoes. Dick huffs.

“He said that uh, he’d hoped to see an engagement ring on your finger by now.”

Eleanor blinks at him, feeling her mouth open in surprise and then a flush spread across her cheeks. Dick’s eyes keep fluttering away from hers, embarrassment visible on his face.

“Technically, we’ve only been dating for two weeks.” Eleanor points out, voice sounding squeakier than she’d like. And sure, she’s been staying over at Dick’s place a lot during the summer and had in return gotten to know his neighbours. She liked them, especially Yoska and the way he was trying to teach her Romani.

“That’s what I told him,” Dick says, clearing his throat.

“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Eleanor murmurs. It’s a half lie, she had thought about it. Back when she was sixteen and thought that she knew everything. Back when her whole world had just been about their relationship. Dick chuckles, again sounding a bit strained. She straddles the bike, flipping her own helmet in front of her, then looks up at him. They stare at each other for a long while before a smile crosses his lips, and then they’re both laughing. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“He has no filter at all, does he?”

“None what-so-ever.” Dick replies lightly. “Ready to go get some of those famous blueberry pancakes?” He asks, straddling the bike behind her, Eleanor hums.

“God yes, I’m starving.”

“We should have gotten the cereal.”

“Not in this lifetime Boy Wonder.” She laughs, twisting the key in the ignition. The bike purrs to life underneath them.

“Hey, do you remember Anthony from my Robotics class?” Eleanor asks, tapping the picture her friend just sent her. Then turns the phone around for Dick to see. “He just adopted a dog.”

Dick makes a cooing noise with his mouth full of pancakes, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that shines through the window of the diner. “Adorable.”

Yes, Eleanor thinks, watching her boyfriend with great amusement. Adorable indeed.

“Her name is Sofie.” She continues, looking at the picture, the dog is sat happily next to her friend, tongue lolled out of her mouth with a dog-toy batarang in front of her paws. “She’s a Golden-Labrador mix, six years old.”

“We’ve gotta meet her next time we’re in Boston.”

Eleanor hums in agreement, reaching out with her fork to steal a blueberry off Dick’s plate, having already eaten all of hers. He narrows his eyes at her playfully, picking up another one with his fingers and tosses it at her, then grins when she catches it with her mouth.

“You’ve got it bad for these things.” He says, offering her another one.

“I can’t help it, blueberries are the best.” Eleanor sighs happily. Dick shakes his head, scooping up the last remaining of his blueberries on his plate, the scoots it over to her side of the table. She licks her lips, biting back a grin.

“Have I mentioned that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

“Hmm, maybe. Though I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Eleanor leans over the table, mindful not to spill the cooling lemon iced tea and presses a blueberry tasting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Best boyfriend ever.” She says against his lips, then steals the other berries and retreats back with her hoard. Dick chuckles lightly.

She thinks back to two weeks ago, how during patrol in Gotham she’d twisted her ankle, it hadn’t been very serious, she’d not been too hurt, but Dick had been there and insisted on checking it out. So when they’d gotten to the nearby safehouse – just a one room apartment stuffed with medical supplies – he’d wrapped her ankle with such a delicate touch that her heart had felt like it was stuck in her throat. Eleanor had cupped his face and kissed him, it had been quick and filled with heat and afterward she’d been beet-red in the face. Stuttering out an apology while he’d stared up at her with wide beautifully blue eyes. A silence had stretched between them, a silence that had seemed like an eternity. Then she’s asked in a quiet voice, his hand in hers. _“Dinner? Just us?”_ Dick had smiled, brought her hand up to his cheek, touching his lips to the back of it.

Now looking at him, sat across her in the booth at the diner, lazily flicking through his phone. Eyes sometimes crinkling in amusement, sometimes in concentration. Eleanor can’t help but think, _what the hell took her so long._

Dick glances up when he notices her staring at him, quirking an eyebrow questioningly before he snaps his attention over her shoulder.

“Amy!” He calls, waving. Eleanor turns her head to see the blonde woman walking over to them. Dressed in her police uniform and looking exhausted.

“Grayson. Find your way here even off shift, huh?”

Dick smiles. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh yeah, guilty as charged.” Eleanor says, holding her hand out for the woman to shake. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you again Officer Rohrbach.”

“Eleanor right?” Amy replies, taking her hand in a firm shake. “And please, just Amy is fine.”

“How’s the trials coming along?” Dick asks, leaning forward slightly in interest. He’d worked hard getting all the evidence to put some of the most corrupt people behind bars both as Officer Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Eleanor could hardly fault him for thinking about it even while he wasn’t technically working. Then again, their work was never really done.

“They’re slow, and long, and there’s way too much paperwork.” Amy replies, crossing her arms. “Just picking up some coffee and it’s back to the station.”

“Ah, station coffee not doing it?”

“Hardly,” the blonde huffs. “I need the triple expresso only Jonah’s make.”

“I’ll be back in tomorrow to help you out.” Dick promises. Amy shrugs, rolling her shoulders and giving Eleanor a cursory glance.

“Not that I want to say no to extra eyes and hands, but it’s been a week since you got shot Grayson. You should take it easy.”

“I heal fast.”

“He does,” Eleanor nods, “it’s kind of freaky.”

“You seem strangely calm about that fact.” Amy observes.

 _We’re used to it_. Is probably the wrong thing to say. Eleanor smiles tersely. “I’ve been kidnapped far too many times. Danger is an unfortunate side-effect of my last name.”

For a moment Amy’s face scrounges up in confusion, then realisation lights up in her eyes.

“Wayne.” She murmurs, “I keep forgetting that you’re a part of _that_ family.” She says to Dick – who shrugs. “Ehh, that came out rude, I meant no offense.” Amy coughs, quickly looks over at Eleanor with a somewhat apologetic face. “Running on three hours of sleep and about seven too many cups of coffee, my brain isn’t engaging.”

“None taken,” Eleanor replies.

“How’s Jim and the kids?” Dick asks, hints of worry lacing its way through his words. Amy’s shoulders drop.

“They’re safe, I’m not sure where exactly but until the trials are over they’re staying out of ‘Haven.” Eleanor remembers Dick telling her about the assassination attempt. The bomb that blew up the Rohrbach’s home a couple of days ago. She doesn’t think she could fault Amy if she’d wanted to take a step back from the trials. But there’s nothing but a resolute look in the older woman’s eyes.

“Makes sense, sorry this happened to you Amy.”

The woman shrugs. “I don’t like it, obviously. But Jim and I both agree that it has to be done. ‘Haven will be safer for everyone afterwards, including Justin and Emma.” Amy smiles then, wistfully. “Once it’s over and we’ve settled down again you two should definitely come over for a dinner.”

Dick gives her a quick glance then nods at Amy. “We’d love to.”

“Oh, that’s my order.” Amy says then, glancing over her shoulder, turning back she gives Dick a nod and then a smile at Eleanor. “Stay safe Grayson. It was good to see you Eleanor.”

“Likewise,” they both reply at the same time. Watching as the older woman makes her way up to the counter to accept four paper cups of coffee before leaving the diner. Once she’s done eating the remaining of the berries, Eleanor shuffles over to Dick’s side of the booth, curling up against his side on the worn seat.

“I like her.” Eleanor says after Dick’s wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed a light kiss against her forehead.

“Me too,” he muses, “she’s good people.”

She hums, worrying her lip between her teeth. They watch the other patrons in silence, listening to the soft tune of the latest pop song on the radio and the sizzling of food from the kitchen. The conversation from earlier popping back to her.

“Do you ever want that?” Eleanor asks, glancing up at him.

“Want what?”

“What Amy has. Husband, kids. White picket fenced house in the suburbs? Maybe a dog?”

A normal life. Eleanor wasn’t even sure if it were something she wanted or could have, not because anyone was standing in her way. But her life wasn’t exactly normal, and being a vigilante was quite addictive. If she had the option, she wasn’t sure she’d chose it over what she already has. Dick rubs a calming hand over the small of her back, pursing his lips in contemplation.

“Thinking about what Yoska said?” He asks.

She hums noncommittally.

“I don’t know about a husband,” he says lightly then, jokingly. “Unless there’s something you want to tell me.”

Eleanor huffs, elbowing his side.

“Sorry. I don’t know, Ellie. I haven’t given it that much thought.” He pauses. “Though I’ve always wanted a big family, but you already knew that.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I always assumed you meant Bruce, Tim, Cass, Alfred and our friends.”

“When I was little I always wanted a sibling. Or several.” He says. “I used to ask mom about it, she’d just laugh you know? The kind of laugh that adults do when kids say something adorable.”

Eleanor does know, though from her perspective it had always been patronising. The adults that had laughed at her like that had been Gotham socialites. She’d been a smart kid, and those adults had treated her like she was a stupid, but precious little girl to be protected from all the world’s worries, no doubt thinking that she was only good enough to pass on the Wayne name. If that.

“Now though, I mean…” Dick trails off, his cheeks going a bit red. “I’m only twenty-two, but yeah not going to pretend that a bunch of small me’s and you’s are something I don’t want. You know, in the future.”

Eleanor snuggles a bit closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“What about you?” Dick asks, a bit tense. She reaches out to grab his free hand, trailing her fingers up until she can grasp his forearm. Slowly circling the softer skin on the inside of his elbow with her thumb.

Kids. Yes, she does want kids at some point. Not anytime soon mind, she’s got collage and about half a dozen other commitments. And she wouldn’t want to raise a child the same way she was raised. Eleanor loves Bruce, he was her dad and always would be, but her childhood had been kind of crappy. No, any child of hers would take first priority and she wasn’t just quite ready for that commitment yet.

“I don’t know about a picket fence in the suburbs,” Eleanor admits. “It doesn’t seem like it would fit us.”

“We’d go stir crazy.” He agrees, lips brushing against the top of her head when he speaks.

“Kids are something I want too,” Eleanor admits then peers up at him. “Though like you said, in the future.” No matter what though, all the futures she sees include him, kids or no kids. Marriage or no marriage. Dog or no dog.

He nods, then after a pause, laughs quietly. “This turned into a serious conversation didn’t it?”

“We could always talk about the cereal issue instead.” Eleanor offers, holding back laughter.

“There’s no cereal issue, the cereal is great.” Dick objects, goofy smile on his lips. “It’s easy to throw some of it and milk into a bowl when I need a quick energy boost.”

“You don’t need energy boosts in the morning babe, you’re just being lazy.”

“Well,” he chuckles, waggling his eyebrows. “If every morning looks like this one I will.”

“You’re impossible.” Eleanor laughs.

“You love me.”

She really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Chapter named after "Beating Heart" by Ellie Goulding.


	4. I do not want to die inside just to breathe in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: Mentions of rape/non-con

Eleanor prides herself on being able to think quick on her feet. She’s not a genius like Bruce or Tim, but she’s not dumb. Far from it. Yet she doesn’t think there’s anyone who could accurately predict Joker’s motives. Like now, Gotham General taken hostage, for what reason? There had been no demands for anything, no word besides maniacal laughter across the loudspeakers. The response time for the police had been three minutes, not bad for Gotham, then again the GCPD headquarters were just a couple of blocks away.

Commissioner Atkins had set up a perimeter around the hospital, allowing no traffic in or out of the area. There were several News vans parked alongside it and in the air there’s a police helicopter circulating. All in all, there’s a recipe for disaster should anyone take the wrong step.

“Batgirl you will get the people out of the east wing.” Batman says to Eleanor’s right. She spots the black and yellow of Cass fling herself off the building before Bruce is done speaking and hears the thwip of her grapple gun extending.

 _“Fifth floor in the west wing is filled with cancer patients. The staff has boarded up the doors but there are several clowns heading that way.”_ Oracle calls over their comms.

“Blackbird.”

“On it, B.” She murmurs, not waiting for a reply, Eleanor does the same thing Cass had done seconds ago.

_“I need the Joker’s location.”_

_“Working on it B, but we’ve got other issues, there’s canisters filled with Joker venom being loaded in through the back of the building.”_ Barbara says, Eleanor can hear her tapping away at keys while she’s talking. There’s no reply from her father, but she assumes he’s working his way over there.

Eleanor cuts the line prematurely, rolling onto the nearby building opposite the west wing, activating her infrared lenses on her domino she spots the two thugs trying to get the doors open to the oncology ward. A heartbeat passes, she lifts her grapple again aiming at the window she can see them through, then higher and fires it. It takes the grapple point three seconds to clamp down on the hospital building, and Eleanor another point six to – feet first – go through the window.

The thugs turn, raising their weapons at the noise but by then it’s too late for them to react. Eleanor rolls forward into the first guy’s leg and forces the knee straight then lifts his foot. He crashes into the ground on his back, two quick punches and a kick to the side of his head he goes limp. The other one swings at her with a rusty crowbar, narrowly missing cracking her in the shoulder with it. Eleanor grabs his wrist, then twists underneath the arm and grabs the thugs knee and flips them both over. She twists on the floor, and before he can get up again she gives him a swift strike to the temple with just enough force to knock him unconscious. When she stands up, it’s been less than five seconds since she broke the window. She ties the thugs up together with bat-grade zip ties and kicks any weapon away from their person before she delves deeper into the hospital.

“O,” Eleanor murmurs, peering around a corner. “The oncology ward is safe, I’m-…” The whistle of the knife is the only warning she gets before it embeds itself in the space her head had been not a second ago, the second knife she manages to catch, dropping it to the floor the person responsible dives at her with another set of blades in their hands.

Eleanor dodge out of the way, choosing to focus on her defence rather than offence to get her bearings from the onslaught. The woman, long black hair, a small blue stripe in her bangs and a painted face that vaguely resembles a clown, is almost as tall as Eleanor is. But young, she can’t be older than sixteen? Or seventeen. And quick, _very_ quick. When she manages to push the attacker away the other pauses, and slowly a creepy smile crawls up her face.

“You’re quick.” She says, her voice low, deadly.

“And you’re new.” Eleanor replies, the corridor they’re in isn’t that wide, which works in favour for her. But she also thinks the same for her assailant. “Let me guess,” Eleanor continues. “Now that Harley is somewhat sane you’re the replacement?”

Sane is a generous term, it’s more like she’s no longer hanging on to Joker like he’s the best thing since sliced bread and is now working with Amanda Waller and the Suicide Squad.

“I’m the Punchline.” The woman says, eerily calm, “and Harley is old news.”

 _“Blackbird?”_ Oracle’s voice calls out in her ear. Eleanor chooses not to reply, she was sure Barbara was already hacked into the hospitals security cameras.

“Look, whatever it is the Joker has done to you-”

“Oh, poor little bat-lackey.” The woman – Punchline purrs, flipping a knife in her hand with deadly precision. “I sought _him_ out. And tonight I earn my place by killing _you_.”

Before any other words can be exchanged Punchline throws herself forward, slashing and stabbing at Eleanor’s armour. None of the blades pierce her thicker chest piece, but she can still feel the pressure of them. And it’s only a matter of time before the knifes whittle it down. Or Punchline decides to go for a place not protected by armour, like Eleanor’s face.

She settles into Wing Chun, it’s quick with a lot of strikes meant to overwhelm you opponent. Yet still allows Eleanor to relax her muscles enough to dodge out of swipes against Punchlines knifes. The newest addition to Joker’s crew is decent, Eleanor can’t deny that, but she’s no martial artist, and she certainly didn’t have enough experience to deal with someone as trained as Eleanor. No doubt Punchlines ‘techniques’ rely a lot on the moment of surprise, or overwhelming odds, neither of those help her in this situation. Barely half a minute passes before Eleanor has Punchline in a choke hold, the woman gasping for breath whiles flailing her arms to try and pry Eleanor off her. Then she’s out, and Eleanor drops her to the floor. Looking up, she sees herself in the reflection of a window, Eleanor looks like she’s gone ten rounds with a hoard of angry cats. Her whole armour is terribly scraped up, it’s gonna be a pain to fix.

She grimaces.

 _“She went down quickly.”_ Barbara says, Eleanor grunts in reply. Bending down to search the woman of any more knifes and then zip ties her up. _“We’ve got more hostages down on the second floor, in the personnel cafeteria.”_

“On my way.” Eleanor nods, taking off towards the stairs. “Any news of Joker?”

 _“Batman is handling him.”_ There’s a cold tone to Barbara’s voice, Eleanor can’t fault her for it.

“Alone?”

_“Batgirl’s got the east wing evacuated, she’s making her way to you now. B said he didn’t want either of you there.”_

“You’ll tell me if it looks like he needs backup right?” What else were they there for? Joker was unpredictable yes. But Eleanor and Cassandra could both help, if nothing else but to deal with Joker’s entourage of crazies.

 _“I will.”_ Barbara promises.

At least this is taking her mind off Blüdhaven. Or had, until this point. Just thinking about it now, losing the circus, losing his apartment and the friends that lived there. Then no doubt reading or hearing about the assassination attempt on her life. She’s got half a mind to ask Barbara where he is currently. But she can’t let that distract her now, it could prove fatal. Eleanor curses low under her breath.

“Language.” Cass chides, appearing out of the shadows. Eleanor would probably have jumped if she weren’t so used to it by now.

“I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar.” She hums, giving Cass a once over, her sister doesn’t have a scratch on her. “Let’s get the rest of these people out of here.”

Cassandra nods.

It’s terrifyingly awe-inspiring to work side by side with Cass. To see the subtle change in her body language whenever she faces off with one or several opponents. She’s quick, efficient without being too brutal and reads Eleanor to the point where she probably knows what she’s thinking before Eleanor does.

They hear the screaming first, both take off running towards the shrill noise within seconds. When they round the corner there’s a dozen jeering clowns with pipes, bats and crowbars in hand. Four of them are crowding two nurses, one of the nurses cradling a young, crying boy to his chest, trying desperately to keep the child away. The other eight are trying to break into a door that reads ‘staff only’ on a sign, meeting screaming resistance. Eleanor barely has to indicate with her fingers before Cass throws herself to the eight of them.

“Stay away from us!” the female nurse says with false bravado, she’s holding a mop in both shaking hands. One of the clowns – laughing – raises his pipe to hit her. Eleanor acts. The batarang leaves her hand with deadly precision, clattering into the metal and forcing it out of the thugs hand. By the time he turns to face her, she’s already on the move. Eleanor strikes out with her elbow to his windpipe, grabs his arm and twists him down so she can knee him in the solar plexus, it’s enough to leave him gasping for breath, stumbling away from her. She can’t knock him out before another fist comes flying her way. She grabs the woman’s wrist and like Eleanor had done to the thug outside the oncology ward, twists under her arm to throw her into another clown that Cass kicks towards her side of the corridor. They collide together and go down, freeing Eleanor’s attention to the other two, still dangerously close to the small trio of civilians.

“If you leave now,” Eleanor says darkly, glaring at the remaining two who seems to be at a momentary loss for what to do. “I won’t break your arms.”

One of them – the bigger of the two, snorts and goes to grab the nurse with the mop, as the woman screams Eleanor kicks the thugs wrist with her boot. She doesn’t quite hear the bone break, but the man cries out in pain, turning to her, anger overriding his sense of self preservation. He barrels towards her, Eleanor drops to her hands, kicking him with the flat of her boot straight in the forehead, hearing him grunt as his nose breaks.

She doesn’t stop though, as soon as Eleanor is back on her feet she takes the feet out from under the last clown. Catching him before he hits the floor and then quickly twists his arm back forcing him away from the nurses and little boy. The larger turns back to her, blood dripping down from his nose and flails wildly. It’s a lucky punch, one that she hadn’t expected because of the state of his wrist but it does manage to connect to her side and for a moment all Eleanor sees is black spots. Her face contorting in pain, then he swings at her again. She snaps out of it just in time to dodge out of a fist that would have probably seriously bruised her jaw, or even broken it. On the backswing she grabs him by the clothes, dropping her weight and presses her foot against his stomach to throw him over her, he lands on the ground with a heavy exhale and doesn’t get back up.

Using the momentum of the heavy clown Eleanor flips herself up just in time to catch the last thug by the shoulder, then remorselessly smack his head into the wall next to them. Just as Cass drops the last of the eight she’d been fighting.

“Thank you Batwoman.” The nurse with the mop says, still breathing harshly, eyes filled with adrenalin. The little boy clinging to the male nurse makes a noise of disapproval as he eyes Eleanor with wide admiring eyes.

“Not Batwoman,” he says. “Blackbird.”

Eleanor presses her hand to her side, biting back a grimace to smile at the little boy. Cass is next to her within a heartbeat.

“Injured?” She murmurs, gesturing to her side. Eleanor shakes her head, it was fine. Just a bit of pain. Cass seems to understand.

On the opposite side the door cracks open a smidge, hushed whispers appearing with curious eyes.

“Are they dead?” A woman asks, not dressed in scrubs.

“We need to leave!” Another whisper, “there’s an emergency exit not far from here.” The door opens more, showing half a dozen people crowding the small nap room.

“I will… Look.” Cassandra tells her, slipping into the shadows when Eleanor nods.

The people, both hospital staff and not, look at her for guidance.

“O?” Eleanor says, reaching up to her comm by the side of her domino.

 _“I’m here,”_ Oracle replies, _“you’ve got more clowns incoming behind you, but they don’t seem to know you’re there, yet. Marking the emergency exit on your HUD.”_

“Okay.” Eleanor looks at the people that are still whispering quietly amongst themselves. “Be as quiet as you can and follow me.” There’s a moment of hesitation, of trepidation, then the little boy wriggles out of the nurses arms, despite the quiet protests. He walks up to her clutching a small what looks like homemade action figure in one arm, he takes Eleanor’s hand. She crouches down to his eyelevel.

“What’s your name, bud?” She asks softly.

“Jake.” He replies, reaching out to touch the purple bird on her chest armour.

“That’s a pretty cool toy you got there Jake.”

“It’s Batman.” He says, giving her a toothy smile. “Do you know Batman?”

“Yeah,” Eleanor replies, with a nod. “Are you and Batman ready to get out of here?”

Jake nods, leaning up to wrap his arms around her neck, Eleanor, without missing a beat, picks him up, holding him to her uninjured side. When she meets the eyes of the rest of the group they’ve soften somewhat. Eleanor understands, it’s weird to see someone previously only thought to be an urban myth, terrifying to see them go through criminals like wet tissue paper. Little Jake’s acceptance has made her more human, less scary.

She knows Cass is flanking them, her little sister allows herself to be seen just enough for Eleanor to pick up on it as she leads the civilians to the exit. Once they’re all down the spiral staircase, Eleanor lowers Jake to the ground.

“Bye Blackbird.” He says, waving. The male nurse who’d held him when Cass and Eleanor found them is quick by his side again.

“Bye little guy,” she says fondly, ruffling his short brown hair before she grapples back up to the door. Cassandra is waiting for her by the door.

“You are… good… with kids.” She says, Eleanor can vaguely make out a smile through her Batgirl mask.

“Most kids are easy, they just want someone to listen.” Eleanor replies. Then taps her comm again. “Oracle. The civilians are out safe, what’s the situation?”

_“Joker is neutralized, B is dealing with the venom. The police are about to get involved.”_

“So we’re done?”

_“Yes, though the woman you fought earlier. She’s managed to escape, I lost track of her five minutes ago while she was leaving the hospital.”_

“Punchline,” Eleanor says grimacing. “I imagine it won’t be the last we’ll hear of her.”

 _“The world does_ not _need another Harley Quinn.”_

“She seemed different. Harley never shut up, but this one was mostly quiet.” Eleanor crosses her arms over her chest. “Also, Harley hit harder.”

_“I’ll see what I can find about her. For now, you two should get out of there. B’s orders.”_

Eleanor lets out a small sigh, more a puff of breath than anything else. Cass touches her shoulder affectionately.

“Going to go… Now.” She pauses. “Patrol.” She adds.

Eleanor nods, “stay safe, Tiny Bat.”

Cassandra gives her a thumbs up, and Eleanor knows she’s smiling behind the mask. They both grapple away, knowing that the city is at least somewhat safer with Joker on his way back behind bars at the asylum.

As soon as she’s out of the hospital’s general area Eleanor swoops up to the side of one of the gothic gargoyles that litter Gotham’s buildings. Flicking her glove to life and dialling Dick’s phone.

Seconds tick by.

There is no answer.

Anxiousness rears its ugly head. Eleanor paces over the thin ledge, feeling like she’s balancing on a knifes edge, like her heart has it’s found a new permanent home in her throat.

_“Your heartrate is too high, Blackbird.”_

“He’s not answering O.” She snaps. “Can you track his phone?”

_“You’re really asking me to do that?”_

“Barbara.” Eleanor bites back the impulse to scream profanities at the older woman, _she means well_. She knows. “I know you don’t want to invade his privacy, but he’s _not_ answering. And after today…”

There’s a pause on the other end of the comms. _“He’s in Atlantic City.”_

“Atlantic City?” Eleanor echoes, that’s two hours away from Blüdhaven, three from Gotham. What the hell was he doing in _there?_

 _“There’s something else, Elle.”_ Barbara’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. _“The BHPD just found Roland Desmond dead, murdered.”_

It feels like ice is running through her veins.

“How?” She questions quickly.

_“Gunshot, execution. According to BHPD forensics it’s the same gun that was used to kill the former Captain Redhorn.”_

No one had really cared enough about Redhorn to put his murder as priority, he’d been working for Blockbuster after all. Put his men in danger whenever the crime lord had asked and at the time Dick hadn’t even been in ‘Haven. He’d been chasing evidence in Paris and London.

“Is there a suspect?”

 _“The gun belongs to Catalina Flores.”_ Barbara replies, there’s an edge to her voice. Eleanor stops, one foot hovering over a two hundred feet drop, the other precariously balanced on the demon looking gargoyle. _She knows that name._ Born and raised in Blüdhaven, an ex-FBI agent with a serious superiority complex. She’d dressed up in John Law’s old colours as Tarantula and been nothing but trouble for Dick ever since. He’d tried to guide her, teach her like Batman had taught them, but most of the time it had seemed like she’d just shrugged off the lessons.

“I’m leaving Gotham.” Eleanor speaks into the comm, taking the leap off the building. She freefalls for a good three seconds before she shoots her grapple and starting the swing to her bike parked a couple of blocks away.

 _“Good.”_ Barbara replies in her ear. _“B already knows.”_

“Thanks Babs.”

Eleanor lands near her bike, tapping at her gauntlet to activate the disguise for her suit. Hiding the bird on her chest. She’d change later, for now she was in a rush. Pushing her hood back she equips her helmet, then starts her bike up. Three hours to Atlantic City.

She makes it in two and a half hours, – with a quick stop to change out of her suit. The GPS on her bike tracking Dick’s phone to a small motel on the edge of the city. By the time she arrives it’s almost pitch-black outside, the only light illuminating the streets coming from the lamps that flank it, and whenever the clouds part to make way for the moon to shine through. The motel is fairly ratty, the vacancy sign outside no longer working properly. Eleanor spots Dick’s bike tucked away in a corner of the parking lot, if she hadn’t known what to look for she wouldn’t really have seen it.

Pulling the helmet off her head she stashes it in the small compartment under the seat of her bike and locks it with a quick button press. Her black hair falls in a bit of a tangled mess over her shoulders. She feels apprehensive, nervous almost. On the way here she’d had too much time to think, and her stomach had tied itself into knots over it. What if he didn’t want her here. What if he’d gone to Atlantic City just because it was away from Gotham? But he would have called right? Or texted her or _something_. The radio silence was uncharacteristic.

She ties her hair up as she walks over to the door that the GPS had pointed out his phone was at. Eleanor raises her hand to knock then falters, for a moment she feels like she’s going to be sick, and she has no idea why. Steeling herself, she knocks.

The person that opens the door isn’t Dick, but Eleanor recognizes the dark brown hair and tan skin anyway. Catalina Flores stares back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

 _What the hell are you doing here._ Eleanor wants to snap. Instead she bites back the impulse.

“Is Dick here?” Eleanor refrains from crossing her arms. Catalina purses her lips for a moment before turning her head.

“ _Querido!_ There’s a woman at the door for you.”

It feels like she can taste ash in her mouth or like she’s been punched in the stomach, her heart stutters in her chest. _Querido._ Dear, beloved, _lover_. Dick wouldn’t. She knows he wouldn’t. After everything they’ve been through, he would _never_ do something like this to her. Eleanor’s known him since she was seven. She knew that when he loved he gave everything to that person. They would become the most precious thing in the world to him. He would _never_ cheat on her.

She sees him move in the room and for a moment there’s nothing but relief that he’s okay, that he’s not hurt. Then she sees the familiar blue of his eyes and her heart shatters in to a thousand pieces in her chest. Eleanor takes an instinctual step forward to get to him, because he looks absolutely broken. That fiery spark completely gone from his eyes. He looks sickly pale, dark circles under his eyes. There’s recognition as he spots her, then confusion, and lastly shame. Eleanor’s aware that Catalina is saying something, but all she can focus on is the crushing look in Dick’s face before he looks down, not meeting her eyes.

“Dick.” Eleanor says, taking another step into the motel room and reaches out for him. He recoils away as if she’d physically struck him. Eyes flashing up to hers and it’s not just shame there. It’s fear. A fear that Eleanor have encountered before. A fear that makes her simultaneously sick to her stomach and fucking furious. Then he looks over Eleanor’s shoulder, to the woman that she knows are staring at her, the look in his eyes is enough for Eleanor to understand what has happened.

“Hey, what do you think-?” There’s a hand on her shoulder, a heartbeat later Eleanor got Catalina pressed up against the wall face first with her hand behind her back painfully tight.

 _“What the hell did you do to him?!”_ Eleanor snarls, Catalina struggles against the hold, desperately trying to get out of it. It only makes Eleanor hold her tighter, to the point where she knows that if she applies any more pressure to her arm, it will dislocate her shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” The Latino shouts back, through grunts of pain, insults and curses.

“Answer the fucking question Flores!” There’s a heavy seething anger building for each passing moment. They may have chosen bats and birds to represent their vigilante activities. But when it came down to it, the family were a pack of wolves. Ready to snap at anyone who thought they could harm their packmates. Right now, one of their own was hurting, and hurting badly. Eleanor hadn’t felt this kind of angry in a very, _very_ long time. Not since she broke into Arkham with the sole purpose of killing the Joker.

“I didn’t do anything!” Catalina hollers.

“Ellie…” Dick speaks for the first time, voice low, no hint of his cheerful self in it. Eleanor’s grip on Catalina tightens, blunted nails cutting into her arm with enough pressure to draw blood. There’s another string of curses from her, calling Eleanor a bunch of unflattering things. She tilts her head to look at Dick, his arms wrapped around himself, not unlike the other night when he’d looked like he was trying to keep everything from spilling out, to hold himself together. Blue eyes hollow, empty almost.

It’s Eleanor’s breaking point.

She twists Catalina’s arm up and with a sickening crack dislocates her shoulder, then grabs her and throws her into the room. Kicking the door shut behind her.

 _“¡Perra loca!”_ Flores wails, “ _¿qué demonios crees que estás haciendo?”_

“What the hell do I _think_ I’m doing?!” Eleanor shouts back, stepping over the fumbling kick that Catalina tries to trip her up with. She draws her fist back and punches her straight in the side of the jaw. The woman on the floor dribbles blood out of the corner of her mouth. Her attention flicks to Dick, who’s stood frozen on the spot by the door.

 _“¡Querido!_ Help me!”

“Don’t fucking talk to him.” Eleanor says through gritted teeth. Then kicks at Catalina’s feet. “Get up!” The woman glares at her with pure hatred in her eyes. Behind Eleanor, Dick calls her name so quietly she might as well have imagined it. Then Catalina struggles up to two feet, her right arm hanging uselessly by her side. Her eyes flicker to the bedside table, where Eleanor spots a metallic gleam. A gun.

_The gun._

“I’m going to kill you, _puta._ ” Catalina spits out.

“Like you killed Roland Desmond?” Out of the corner of her eyes Eleanor sees Dick flinch. Gaze dropping to the floor again. Before she can speak again Eleanor gestures at the gun. As if to say, ‘go on, I dare you’.

With the clowns back at the hospital she’d been quick and efficient. But this was personal, she was going to enjoy it and she was going to make sure it was damn fucking painful. As soon as Catalina take off towards the gun, Eleanor coils out like a snake. There’s no finesse, no precision in her strikes, only brute anger. They’re quick punches and kicks that are meant to hurt, not incapacitate. Catalina puts up a half assed defence, not really able to hold Eleanor off for any amount of time. By the time the other woman goes down for the second time Eleanor’s fists are bloody, and she doesn’t feel any closer to stopping. And might not have had it not been for Dick calling her name. This time she doesn’t imagine it.

“Please,” he says, voice hoarse like he’s been shouting. “Eleanor, stop.”

Eleanor looks down at the woman. Bloodied, bruised. Her lips split in two different places and sporting the largest black-eye Eleanor’s ever seen. Arm still dislocated, a couple of fingers broken on her left hand and no doubt the worst concussion someone could have and not have a cracked skull.

And still conscious.

She looks up at Dick. He’s still stood by the door, not moved an inch since she got into the room. Her anger, while it’s still there, demanding more blood, takes second priority. Because Dick is literally shaking, tear stained face watching her apprehensively. Eleanor turns back to Catalina, gripping her by the collar of her shirt.

“If you ever touch him again... no scratch that, if you as much as look at him again I’m going to make you wish you were dead. You got that?”

“Fuck you.” Catalina groans, blood spilling from her lips.

Eleanor grabs her throat. “Do you fucking understand me?”

With her left hand Catalina tries to pry Eleanor’s grip off of her. When she fails and starts gasping for breath, she nods.

“Yes.” She croaks out.

Eleanor drops her to the ground, trying to regain some of her control before she turns to look at Dick. She doesn’t try to touch him when she walks up to him, instead she just gestures to the door.

Dick rubs his face, combing his longer black strands away from his eyes. “My bag.” He says, eyes flickering to the bed and the black bag on it. Without a word Eleanor walks over and hoists it over her shoulder, then turns back to the door and opens it. Once he’s out of the hotel room, Eleanor turns the lights off because she’s petty and then slams the door shut. Inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth to try and remain calm.

She doesn’t bother going for either of the bikes, instead she starts walking towards the road, Dick walking silently behind her. Eleanor only knows he’s still there because he occasionally sniffles, and the soft patter of his shoes against the asphalt. After ten minutes of awkward angry silence, and her jaw feeling sore for clenching it too much Dick finally speaks up.

“Where are we going?”

“Hotel.” She replies immediately, cursing herself for sounding so angry.

“Oh.” He sounds so tiny, like he wants to just disappear. It’s enough to make her stop. Eleanor turns, waiting until he meets her eyes before she speaks.

“Whatever…” She pauses, racking her brain for a way to word her thoughts without them sounding dismissive or angry. Exhaling, she forces herself to relax. “What happened, Dickie. It doesn’t change anything. I’m not angry or disappointed or… Or disgusted with you.”

His gaze drops and he murmurs something she doesn’t catch under his breath.

“What was that?” She asks softly. God, all she wants is to pull him into a hug and never let go of him. But that’s probably the last thing he wants or needs.

“I’m disgusted with myself.” Dick whispers. “I-I let her… I-…” He wraps his arms around himself again, breath coming out harshly in to the cooling late summer air.

Eleanor places her hands on his arms, when he doesn’t flinch away she keeps them there.

“It’s not your fault.”

A shudder ripple through him. “It’s not your fault, Dickie. It’s not.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathes. She is too, but for different reasons. Sorry that he was forced to go through this, sorry that it happened at all, and sorry that she didn’t put Catalina Flores in a coma. It would be the least that she deserved.

By the time they get to the nearest hotel it’s almost been an hour since they left the motel Eleanor found him at. The room they get is the penthouse suite because it’s the only one free. Once Dick’s in the shower Eleanor leaves briefly to go over to the twenty-four/seven open supermarket across the street. She buys Dick new comfortable clothes that smells like nothing but that new clothes smell and all of the unhealthy comfort food that he loves. When she gets back to the hotel room he’s still in the shower, so she just gently announces her presence and puts the clothes on the sink. He doesn’t want to eat once he gets out though, instead he crashes into the king-sized bed. Eleanor sits by the edge of it, unsure of how much physical contact he wants.

“I told her to not touch me.” He says quietly after a while, breathing unevenly, back facing her. “I couldn’t… I tried to…”

Eleanor places her hand between his shoulder blades over the new hoodie. “Is this okay?” She asks. Dick breathes out again, slower this time, and nods. Eleanor rubs her hand soothingly over his back, trying to find a rhythm for him to focus on.

“No one blames you for what happened.”

He swallows thickly. “I let her kill Blockbuster. I could have stopped her, a-and I didn’t. He wouldn’t stop, he was going to keep coming after everyone I love. And random people on the streets. But I should have… I should have…”

“Shh,” she murmurs, “It’s not your fault.”

He turns around, tears rolling down his cheeks through bloodshot eyes and holds his arms out for her. Eleanor goes gently, broadcasting her every movement. When she settles down next to him, he burrows closer, pressing his face against the crook of her neck.

“I’ve got you.” Eleanor murmurs. “Always.”

He falls asleep against her quietly sobbing, Eleanor keeps combing her fingers through his hair, over his shoulder blades. During the night he moves less than usual, but she can tell he’s restless. At times whenever she feels him tense up from a nightmare, that white hot anger resurfaces. She tries to breathe evenly to try and get a grip on her temper and to not wake him up. It makes her feel helpless to see him like this, and then it translates into fury for the woman who caused it. It gets to the point where she wonders if she could get away with slipping out of the hotel to track her down and give her another beating.

Ultimately though, she decides not to. Eleanor doesn’t want Dick to wake up and for her to not be there. Throughout her time as Nightingale and Blackbird she’s unfortunately come across too many survivors of sexual assault, and as such she’s had experience with trying to console them. But those people she’d never really known, it had been easier to deal with. And now it had happened to Dick and she was tearing her hair out for what to do.

But Dick is strong. One of the strongest people she knows, he can get through this. Eleanor knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to write, elements are taken from Nightwing Comics 1996 #93.  
> I very much hated how it was handled in the comics, and how the writer (Devin Grayson) glossed over it as "non-consensual" sex. It's rape, and should be treated just as seriously as if it had been a woman enduring it. Anyway, small rant over.  
> Another note; Punchline! I really like the concept of an unremorseful Harley Quinn that's sort of bad at the whole fighting thing, she'll def be back!  
> On another-another note, I did take Spanish in school - like 12 years ago, and it's definitely not up to standard, any mistake is unintentional and I welcome corrections!  
> Thank you for reading.  
> <3


	5. Tell me what you want to hear

When Eleanor wakes the next morning it’s still pretty early. She blinks her eyes open lazily, staring up at the wood beamed ceiling. The remnants of her dream still lingering in the comfortable warmth of the room. It had been about her mother, a strange dream in which Eleanor had tried to speak to her and she’s just been out of reach. Like chasing after someone but never quite being able to catch up with them.

Even stranger still that she’d never actually met the woman, Eleanor didn’t really have an emotional connection to her. The minuscule research she’d done into her mother side of the family had revealed almost nothing. Alice had been born in Gotham, lived there her entire life, but her father, Malik – Eleanor’s maternal grandfather, had been League of Assassin born. A high-ranking assassin to boot, according to Ra’s when she’d asked. Still, Alice had known nothing of the League or Malik. She’d exhausted that end. Eleanor didn’t think there was any manipulation on Ra’s side, but the man could fool the best of them.

The blackout curtains in the bedroom blocks any light from entering but the alarm clock on the bedside table reads five forty. There is a low buzzing in the room that takes her way too long to actually realise that it’s her phone. She’d put it on silent mode last night, tempted to just turn if off completely. Eleanor tilts her head to the side and is met with the dark hoodie and jeans clad body of Dick. During the night he had rolled away from her, now he’s curled up on the other side of the bed still over the cover. He’s breathing evenly, and she hopes he’s still asleep. He desperately needed it. After the last couple of days, he must be both emotionally and physically exhausted. The temptation to reach out and attach herself to his back is almost irresistible. She wants to protect him from everything and everyone that sought to hurt him. Put herself like a wall against all the bad in the world.

She ignores the impulse and sits up, careful not to jostle the bed, grabs her phone and leaves the bedroom. When she unlocks it, there are several texts that greet her. There are a couple from her collage friends, all asking if she’s all right after the assassination attempt yesterday. Two from Barbara. One is from Cass and there are three from Tim.

She responds to her normal friends first, telling them that she’s fine and is keeping a low profile back home. But not to worry, the police are on the case and she had faith in the GCPD. After replying, she taps the one from Barbara open.

 _04:32 BG:_ _Did you find him? Is he okay?  
04:59 BG: I hacked the cameras in AC, saw you check in to a hotel. Call me when you can?_

Eleanor doesn’t want to risk Dick waking up, so she quickly taps away on her phone.

_05:43 EW: It’s complicated. He’s sleeping. I’ll call you later._

The reply is immediate.

_05:43 BG: Got it. Take care of each other._

Eleanor's heart warms at the written words, and briefly wonders if Barbara ever sleeps. The next text is from Cass, sent earlier last night. Despite how bad things have gotten in such a short time, it still makes her so proud to see Cass texting. She had a lot of issues with writing and reading, and still does. Dyslexia, and a fairly severe kind, a side effect of her upbringing. The phone that Tim and Barbara had worked on though helped her out with things like texting and reading.

_03:12 CC: I saw the news. Give Dick a hug from me. If you need anything I will be there._

Followed by a bunch of different heart emojis. Stephanie’s influence. It’s enough to put a small smile on her lips. Eleanor responds back with a heart emoji. Then taps Tim’s contact on her phone.

_04:54 TD: Hey. I just woke up and saw the news. Tried calling Dick, but it goes straight to voicemail. Is he okay?_   
_05:15 TD: I know I’m not working with you guys anymore but if there’s anything I can do?_   
_05:40 TD: Please just tell me he’s okay._

She bites her lip, glancing at the slightly open door to the bedroom. Then, with her phone clutched tightly in her hand walks up to the glass doors to the balcony and steps outside. The sun reflecting off the ocean blinds her for a good couple of seconds, and a strong cool breeze makes her shiver. There are dark clouds looming on the horizon though, Eleanor has no doubt it’s going to rain soon. Pressing the button on her phone, Tim responds after the first ring.

_“Eleanor?”_

“Tim.”

_“Is..? I mean, how is he?”_

“Asleep currently.” She replies, closing her eyes, leaning against the thick glass railing. Below her, the streets are fairly empty. Only the occasional car passing by. “I don’t know how much he wants people to know, so you’ll excuse me for being vague, but it’s… it’s bad, baby bird.”

There’s a soft grunt at the other end of the call before Tim replies. _“Is he going to be okay?”_

“With time, yeah.” Eleanor hums a bit under her breath. “He’s lost so much in such a short time.”

 _“Okay…”_ Tim clears his throat. _“Just let him know that I’m here. Whatever he needs. Even if I have to break my promise to dad, I just… Want to help.”_ She imagines he’s talking about Blüdhaven, to help Dick out while he recovers.

“No.” Eleanor snaps immediately, then a bit softer continues. “No, Tim, I know you want to help, and we all love you for it. But your promise to Jack is important. We’ll be all right. It’s enough to know you’re there, okay?” Tim’s gotten out and Eleanor loves the kid too much to ever ask him back in again.

 _“Yeah.”_ He says quietly after a long pause. _“I get it. But you’ll let him know that I’m here if he needs me right?”_

She bites back a sigh. “Yeah, of course, Tim.”

They say their goodbyes and Eleanor spends another ten minutes just leaning against the railing, trying to get the chaotic mess of her mind under control. Two parts are warring inside of her, one wanting to go find Flores and make the woman pay, again and again. Before taking her in to the cops and making sure she goes away for a long time. If it were up to Eleanor, she would send Flores to Santa Prisca, and the horrible prison of Peña Duro.

The other part wants nothing to do with Flores ever again. The other part just wants to do everything in her power to make sure that Dick gets the help he needs. She can’t say that she’s never experienced sexual jabs and innuendos during her vigilante career, but to her, words were easy to ignore. Especially from those she couldn’t care less for. This was different through. Eleanor had the training, had learned the how’s when you deal with someone who’s experienced what Dick has, but all people reacted differently. Dick seemed okay with the small comfortable touches so far. He had held on to her in his sleep for a long time before she’d fallen asleep. Then there were the triggers, it could be anything. Sounds, smells, clothes, weather. And as if that weren’t enough he also suffered from survivors guilt. Believing it his fault that he didn’t stop Tarantula from killing Blockbuster, and believing it was his fault the circus burned down.

Her fingers clenches hard around her phone, enough that the plastic groans in discomfort. But instead of standing around moping and twisting her head around until she was dizzy she had to do something productive. Breakfast was a good start. She’d make his favourite.

Eleanor as a rule doesn't normally throw her last name around to get people to do what she wants, like most of the Gotham socialite. Today is one of very few exceptions to that rule. She gets room service on the phone and asks them to purchase some of the ingredients that she wants, it gets delivered to her in less than ten minutes. About an hour later she’s finished making the pirogo cake, it’s a mixture of raisins, walnuts and pineapples that, if she’s honest with herself, isn’t her favourite. But Dick loves it, his mom used to make it when he was little, and Alfred after that. She’s just set it up to rest on the kitchen counter when Dick wanders out of the bedroom.

He looks better than yesterday. The circles under his eyes aren’t as pronounced and he’s not as pale. But he's still got that empty look in his eyes that makes her heart hurt. Eleanor swallows back the impulse to ask him if he’s alright and instead offers him a smile.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

“Hey.” He pauses, sniffing the air. “Did you make pirogo?”

“Yup. It’s still cooling though, do you want something to drink? I can make you some coffee.”

He pauses, picking at the sleeve of his hoodie.

“And I bought you some Cap’n Crunch.” She adds, holding up the red packet of sweetened cereal. For the first time since she found him yesterday he smiles. It’s small and doesn’t reach his eyes or stay for long but she catches it and treasures it. Hope, Eleanor realizes. It gives her hope.

“That… sounds nice.”

He sits down on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island, Eleanor quickly puts a bowl filled to the brim with cereal and milk in front of him, as well as a glass of water while she makes the coffee.

“Did you sleep well?”

Dick shrugs. “Yeah I guess.”

She pretends to read the newspaper that’s strewn on the table between them, sipping lightly on the iced tea she’d gotten herself. Dick mostly picks at his food and drains most of the water before the bowl is even half empty. It’s difficult to not ask him how he’s feeling, but it’s Dick that needs to set the pace. And whatever that is, she’ll adapt.

It’s a short eternity before he finally speaks. “Thank you for… uhm, for showing up last night.”

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Eleanor replies. _I wish I never would have let you go to Blüdhaven alone._ She almost says, instead she presses her lips together.

Dick shakes his head. “It’s hardly your fault.”

“It’s not your fault either, Dickie. None of the things that has happened, that’s not on you.”

“Isn’t it? Blockbuster only went after me after I caused a car accident that his mother happened to be in while I was chasing a criminal back in ‘Haven.” He looks away from her at the mention of the late villain. Idly stirring his bowl of soggy cereal. There’s something else though isn’t there? She was fairly certain that Roland Desmond’s mother was an old and frail lady.

“That doesn’t make it your fault, he was responsible for his own actions. He chose to take those lives, not you.”

Frustration flickers in Dick’s eyes. “She still died there. Because of me.”

“Didn’t she have a heart condition?” Eleanor asks, when Dick nods, she continues. “So anything could have triggered it. I know how easy it is to put everything on your shoulders Sunshine, but this isn’t your fault.”

Please, please, please see that.

His shoulders drop. After a long pause he whispers, almost too low for her to hear.

“I could have stopped her though.”

 _Her_. Catalina.

Eleanor refrains from clenching her fists.

“It’s not your fault.” She echoes, Eleanor feels like a broken record. Dick swallows thickly again, picking at the seam of his hoodie.

“Maybe I gave her the wrong impression, maybe I was too friendly. I-“ He cuts himself off, tangling his fingers through his hair. “People always say I have no notion of personal space, maybe that’s why she thought that… Thought that I…”

“Hey,” Eleanor murmurs, placing her hand in front of him on the table. Dick looks up at her with watery eyes. “You are a good person, you were trying to help her, and she took advantage of that, it’s definitely not your fault, Sunshine.”

His eyes are unfocused, it doesn’t seem like he hears her. Then in a quiet voice he says.

“How can you even want to be with me now?”

And Eleanor’s heart shatters all over again. She walks around the kitchen island to stand next to him.

“Can I hug you, sweetie? It’s totally okay if you don’t want me to. It won’t change anything.”

For a long moment he doesn’t say anything, then he turns and holds his arms out and she steps into them, wrapping him up with her own. Lightly petting over his back and rocking them gently side to side.

“I love you.” Eleanor whispers, feeling the shudder that runs through him when she speaks. “No-one could ever change that fact, Sunshine. I’ll love you for as long as there’s stars shining in the sky. I love you because you have a huge and honest heart. I love you because you’ve made me smile when I’ve forgotten how to. I love you because we’re a team, and because you’re my best friend. You’ve been by my side through everything, and I sure as hell won’t leave you now, or ever. For as long as you’ll have me by your side, I’m yours.”

By the time she’s finished speaking, Dick is breathing softly against her neck, holding on to her as if she’s his rock in a storm. Eleanor returns the favour, holding him just as tightly and rubbing her hands up and down his back. When they part, there are silent tears running down his cheeks. Hesitantly Eleanor reaches up to stroke them away, Dick leaning into her touch.

“Dickie, you’re going to have to tell me what’s too much, okay? And I promise it’s not going to change anything, no matter what your limits are.”

“I-I don’t know.” He breathes, eyes closing, sniffling.

“That’s okay,” she murmurs encouragingly. “Just don’t be afraid to talk to me yeah? I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I love you too,” he whispers after a long pause, meeting her eyes.

“I know.” Eleanor nods, giving him a small genuine smile. Dick breathes out slowly again, turning away from her and despite not wanting to let him go, Eleanor respects the subtle decision and goes over to the coffee pot. Pouring him a cup and adding some sugar and milk just like he loves it before handing it to him. Dick takes a sip of the hot liquid, that faraway look in his eyes suggesting that he’s lost in his own head. So Eleanor flips the small radio on, setting it to that pop station that he likes, and starts cutting up the pirogo in small rectangular squares, humming under her breath as she goes. It feels almost normal. Except for Dick’s silence. Usually he’d sing along to whatever obnoxiously cheery song appeared on the radio. It used to drive her insane, not because he was a bad singer, no it was more the fact that he overdid it, and now all she can think about is how she misses it.

The hardest part is being passive, Eleanor doesn’t like sitting still. She wants to be useful or have something productive to do. Even though she knows it’s not up to her to set the pace, she can’t fix this like she would fix her armour or her bike after a rough night patrolling. It’s about time, patience and support. Being there for him when _he_ needs it. Not just because Eleanor’s got a hundred ideas on how to help him.

God… She just wants to-.

“Here,” she says, handing him a plate with a larger than average cut of the pirogo, Dick responds this time. Blinking rapidly before he automatically accepts the fork and plate. He takes a bite of it as she watches – Eleanor is by no means a master chef, but her… time away, had allowed her some skills. She’s relieved however, when Dick smiles ever so slightly, shoulders dropping as tension leaves him.

“Tastes like home.” He says.

Eleanor smiles in return, “Good.”

Later in the day they’re on the couch of the large TV room in their suite. Dick’s laying down on it, head resting against a pillow which is just shy of touching her leg. He’d allowed her fingers combing through his hair and massaging his scalp, told her it was comforting in the familiar feeling of it.

The show on the TV was old re-runs of Friends, but honestly they’re both too preoccupied with their own thoughts to pay it any attention. About fifteen minutes through episode three of season two, Dick shoots up, scooting away from her to the other corner of the sofa with wide eyes and breathing heavily. He looks terrified for a very brief moment, then a green colour takes over his face and he’s vaulting over the sofa a second later, running into the bathroom. Eleanor gets up and grabs bottle of water from the fridge before slowly following behind him, waiting by the door as he empties his stomach in the toilet.

All she wants to do is hold him, sink down to the floor with him and never let go.

“Are you okay?” Eleanor asks instead, instantly regretting the question, of course he wasn’t okay.

“’m sorry.” Dick cries through another sniffling sob. “’m so sorry, Ellie.”

She sinks to her knees beside him, fighting back her own tears of frustration. “There is nothing to forgive, Sunshine.”

“You should hate me.”

“Never.”

He leans back, tucking his knees up and buries his head against his arms. Eleanor places the water bottle beside him, then silently cleans up. Getting rid of the acidic smell by using one of the sent refreshing spray bottles. When she’s done Eleanor grabs his toothbrush, then sits down next to him. Leaning against the wall.

“I don’t want this.” Dick whispers hoarsely into his arms after a couple of minutes.

“I know,” she murmurs back.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.” A pause. “Do you want to talk about it?” A bad dream maybe, or something triggering on the TV.

“No.” Dick says quickly.

“Okay.”

He sighs, tilting his head back to stare up into the ceiling.

“I dreamt you left. That Bruce and Tim,” he swallows thickly. “They told me they never wanted to see me again. That you, all of you were disgusted with me. And the worst part is that you’d be right to be-”

“No, stop, Dick.” Eleanor’s fingers clench hard around the toothbrush in her hand. “You’re not disgusting. You’re _not_.” She repeats when he opens his mouth to argue. “Secondly, I’d never leave, and Bruce and Tim would never say that. They love you, nothing can change that.”

“And I’ll keep reminding you of that no matter how many times you need to hear it. They love you. I love you.”

“Sorry.”

Eleanor shakes her head.

“When I woke up earlier. I had five texts asking me if you were alright. Tim, Babs and Cass. All wondering if they could help.”

Dick stills, tension rising in his shoulders. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them that you’re going to be fine, that it’s just going to take time.”

“Will I?” He whispers.

She swallows back the discomfort. “Only you can truly answer that, but I believe that you can.”

“What about Bruce?”

“I haven’t spoken to him.”

He breathes out. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

“Dick…”

“No, please, Eleanor. I-… I can’t stand having him do that thing he’d do or look at me like only _he_ can.”

“You mean bench you.” She looks at him, Dick absolutely refuses to meet her gaze.

“Among other things.”

“Are you sure you want to jump right back into it? I know we’re not exactly paragons of patience, but these things take time Dick. You need to heal.”

“I’m fine.” He lies, abruptly standing up, taking the toothbrush from her and on slightly wobbly legs stands in front of the mirror. “I’m fine.” Dick repeats.

“Don’t tell him.” Dick repeats after he’s done. She stifles a sigh. “Eleanor.”

“I won’t tell him anything you don’t want him to know, Sunshine. But I don’t think that-“

He leaves the room, before she can finish wording her thoughts. For a moment Eleanor debates if she should just leave him alone. Choosing to feel anger instead of the vulnerable sadness wasn’t that surprising, but Dick has never been one for being alone. He surrounded himself with friends and family because he thrived in their company. She gets up from the floor, staring at herself in the mirror and feeling the seconds tick by, she looks tired and tense. She needs a shower.

When Eleanor exits the bathroom to the bedroom, Dick’s stood with his back to her, she can hear the quiet tapping of his phone.

“Don’t do this please.” She hears herself say. Dick stills for a moment, the tapping slowing down.

“Do what?”

“Turn your back to me, don’t…” Eleanor exhales shakily. “Don’t push me away.”

He doesn’t reply, still pointedly ignoring her presence in the room. His anger palpable. And yet she can’t leave well enough alone. Let him cool off and try again later.

“Dick-“

“What do you want from me?!” He snaps, turning around.

“I-“

Dick takes quick steps towards her, and despite herself, Eleanor finds herself backing up, until she’s pressed against the wall next to the bathroom door. His eyes searching hers, jaw locked up in a tense grimace. He looks close to tears too.

“Why can you just hate me? Why can’t you just tell me how badly I fucked up, instead of this patience and acceptance shit?!”

“Because you deserve patience, you deserve acceptance.” Eleanor murmurs, trying and failing to keep her voice from shaking. She’s not scared of him, she’s never been scared _of_ him. Dick would never do anything to hurt her. But for him? Eleanor is terrified.

He curses, turns around and stalks away. Then slams his fist so hard into the wall it dents, and she knows he’s hurt himself more. He sinks to the floor, curling in on himself and rests his cheek against the wall.

“Why don’t you just leave? You’re good at that.” Dick whispers, the anger melting away from him as quickly as it had appeared. Returning to the sad nothingness that if Eleanor is honest with herself, hates even more. She flinches, turning away as her stomach clenches painfully. She thought he’d forgiven her for that. For leaving almost four years ago, because how broken Eleanor had been after Jason’s death. Dick had even said he didn’t blame her for it, even if it had hurt at the time. Then again, just as she knew him inside out. Dick also knew her, and those who love us the most also know how to hurt us the deepest.

“Is that really what you want?”

Dick glares stubbornly at the wall, jaw clenched, as the seconds tick by Eleanor feels herself twitch at the thought that he actually does mean it. That he wants her gone, it hurts more than she’d like to acknowledge. After another minute of angry, tense silence, she speaks again.

“I promised you two years ago that I’d never do that again. But if you ask me to, and truly mean it… I uhm, I’ll-.” She cuts herself off, quickly reaching up to wipe away the errant tears that slips from her eyes. _I’ll go_ , Eleanor means to say, or, _I’ll leave you alone._ But the words wont form.

“What I want is for you to stop looking at me like I’m going to break.” Dick says at last, turning his head to actually meet her eyes. “I want you to stop treating me like I’m fragile.”

God… Is that what Eleanor had been doing? She thought she’d just been careful not to trigger something bad. All she ever wanted was to be there for him to lean on, not make him feel vulnerable and small, like… like a victim.

“Tell me what to do.” Eleanor begs, taking half a step the side of the room he’s in. “Anything Dick, I just want to help you.” Outside she can hear rain patter against the windows, and the distance of thunder.

To her immense relief he uncurls from the defensive, closed off position. _She’s not lost him yet._

“The diner,” he whispers, looking away from her for a moment before he looks back. “Remember? A couple of weeks ago, just the two us… being.”

“I remember,” Eleanor replies. “And I’ll try, but Dick I think talking to someone else about everything that has happened might still be good.”

“Not Bruce.” Dick says firmly, a no negation kind of answer.

“Not Bruce,” she agrees. “I have a contact that Barbara helped me get two years ago, do you remember? I spoke a little about him.”

Dick nods slowly.

“He’s good, and a friend of the League, so he knows.”

For a moment Eleanor feels her own trepidation build again when she thinks about going over and sitting down next to him. She ignores it, and just acts instead. Dick doesn’t flinch or tense up, he reads her intentions through her movement. It feels more… _normal_ when she sits down next to him, their arms brushing.

“Superhero therapy? He asks after a long pregnant pause.

“It could work,” she replies, offering him a small smile and shrug. “It helped me, talking things through with someone that’s impartial. You get new perspectives. It doesn’t even have to be in person, he does video-”

Eleanor is interrupted by Dick’s phone buzzing in his hand. Faintly, she hears her own phone’s text going off too. They both glance down, seeing Bruce’s name on the screen. He taps it once, and dread settles in Eleanor’s stomach when she sees the emergency message.

“We’re needed.” Dick says.

“Gotham could wait.” She offers, knowing fully well that neither of them would decline the call to arms. He looks up from the phone, brow furrowed. Then gently reaches out to affectionately touch her cheek with the back of his fingers. Eleanor leans into it, basking in the simple show of love.

“I’ll talk to this therapist of yours. After.”

Eleanor doesn’t like the delay, but she doesn’t want to rush him either. At least now they had a plan, whatever Gotham threw at them they would get through that and once it was over, Dick could start properly healing. And her along with him. To her surprise, he gently pulls her in, she goes willingly. His lips are dry but warm against hers in the softest of kisses. Barely any hint of pressure, yet it’s such a declaration of trust that Eleanor heart skips like it’s the first time they kissed. When he pulls back, his thumb gently presses over her lower lip.

“Thank you.” Dick says.

Working alone isn’t a new thing for her, when she was Nightingale she spent most of her time with both Robin, Batgirl and of course Batman. Being backed up by a competent team is a great feeling, being able to rely on someone else, trust them. When she’d left and Dick had moved to Blüdhaven they’d both become lone wolves, custom to having to watch their own backs. The journey back to trusting each other like they used to have been far from easy. Not the vigilante stuff, it had been integrated into them from a young age that they worked better together, sharing intel, training, taking down high value targets. Bruce’s way of making sure that they’d never be alone fighting the dirty undercity of Gotham. Eleanor trusted Dick with her everything, she hoped he did the same, yet now she can’t help but doubt that things would never go back to the way they were. Then again they’d grown since that time, back when they were sixteen and thought they had everything figured out.

“I love you.” Eleanor replies. She says that a lot, she knows. Her feelings had always been easier to talk about to Dick, and Eleanor never tires of saying it. Of seeing the warmth in his eyes and knowing that he loves her just as much.

She hopes it’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another difficult chapter to write, but sorely needed. The pirogo cake is actually a thing, you can find the recipe [here.](https://books.google.se/books?id=JTBSpuCkl9AC&pg=PA132&dq=gypsy+food+cabbage&hl=en&sa=X&ei=1U0yVZOuIpfnoAT4voBo&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false)
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading :)


	6. They say before you start a war

“Robin.”

Tim looks up at her, the lenses on his domino are up showing the deep blue of his eyes. They’re stood at the edge of one of the taller buildings in Burnley, it’s been days now since the start of the gang war that’s plaguing Gotham, leaders of opposing groups having been taken out and no one knew what the hell was going on except that it was bloody. On top of that, they’ve all been caught on camera saving Tim’s school, so now, the entire world knew for certain about their existence, they were no longer urban myths. Eleanor had mostly been on civilian duty, making sure to get as many people as she possibly could out of harm’s way. Then a couple of hours ago Barbara had told her Tim was back as Robin, and all she wants to tell him is how sorry she was that he’s had to pick up the mantle again.

“Hey.” Tim replies, turning back to the dusking sky of oranges and lilac.

“How are you holding up?”

Tim’s shoulders drop slightly.

“I’m alright… Considering. Dad’s… well, not _okay_ with everything, but I think he understands why I have to do this.” Tim fidgets on the lip of the building. “I’m more worried about ‘Wing.”

Eleanor tenses up at the mention of Dick, since they’d gotten to Gotham three days ago she’d seen him two times, once at Tim’s school, rescuing the students from gangsters that had invaded it. And once when they’d run in to each other by accident in one of the safehouses for a brief nap. At which point they’d both been too tired to do anything than collapse on the uncomfortable couch and promptly pass out.

“What happened?”

“He froze up, I had to pull him out of a fire.”

She’s been trained too well to reveal any information through any facial expressions for Tim to glimpse anything. Eleanor knows he’s studying her for just that exact purpose, she’d do the same if she was honest. She does however see the briefest hint of frustration in Tim’s eyes, it’s gone in less than a second. Dick had said he’d be fine working, it would help him focus on something else. Which Eleanor understood. That was also one of the reasons she’s so readily agreed to the whole thing, but it only worked if he was actually distracted enough. And it would have to be a fire, triggering all the loss he’d suffered at the circus, at his apartment. _Former_ apartment.

“It’s worse than he’s letting on isn’t it.” Tim says, it’s not a question.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

She’d repeated that three times now, to three different people. _“Is he okay? He doesn’t look okay.”_ Barbara had asked. _“What ever happened won’t follow you here.”_ Bruce had said, and she’d punched him in the jaw before stalking off. It was times like that when she absolutely loathed Batman. Because Batman never saw past the mission, to Batman they were soldiers that could turn off their emotions on command. Eleanor could try and excuse him and say that it was just stress after going three days with no sleep, but it would be a lie, they could function without it. He was just being an asshole.

The only person who hadn’t asked anything was Cass. She’d taken one look at Dick and just silently bumped their shoulders gently together in a silent show of support. Something Eleanor knew Dick had been more affected by than he’d let on.

“Have you seen Steph?” Tim asks quietly, when she doesn’t elaborate.

“Batgirl is tracking her I think.” Eleanor replies, mentally shaking her head. “Oracle mentioned you’ve been taking on a lot.”

Tim grimaces before he can stop himself. Just the slightest twitch of his upper lip. But it’s enough that she can see it. Annoyance.

“I get it,” Eleanor murmurs. “You’re getting back into it. Just be careful.”

Some may call her overprotective. Eleanor had to be, experience is a brutal teacher.

“I’m not Jason.” Tim says, without looking away from her.

“I know you’re not.” There were many things in Tim that she recognized from Jason. The brutal efficiency, the smarts, the need to learn. But Tim wasn’t as much of a hotshot that Jason had been. Tim was calculated and cold when he needed to be. How Bruce could be, but there was a softness to him that Bruce lacked.

Tim was about efficiency, yes. But he was also compassionate and caring to the point where he’d rather take himself out of commission than disappoint his family or friends. His previous extra work at Wayne Enterprises spoke volumes about that. He’d mentioned once that he didn’t even like working there, he just did it because it supported their night-time activities. Of course now he didn’t work there at all anymore, ever since Jack Drake had woken up and Tim had stopped living with them at the manor.

Eleanor steps up to the ledge he’s standing on, peering down to the lamp lit desolate streets that should be brimming with life this time of night. In the distance she can hear cars, dogs barking and the wind blowing past them, making the black of Tim’s cape flutter in the wind.

“If you see Nightwing, tell him to come find me?”

“I’ll tell him.” Tim says, hand going up to his ear. A heartbeat later he’s got his grapple gun in his hand and gives her a side look as his lenses snap back over his eyes. “Copy, Oracle. I’m on it.”

“Duty calls.” She murmurs, hearing the crackle of her own com burst to life and Barbara’s voice on the other end, just as Tim swings off the building with a short nod.

_“Civilians trapped on the upper floors of a burning building. Firefighters are on their way but you’re closer, sending coordinates now.”_

“Copy.”

It goes well until it doesn’t.

She manages to get the entire family of five people out of the building just as the firefighters arrive at the scene as one of the younger girls sobs that her cat is still in the apartment. Eleanor doesn’t even hesitate. She swoops back into the burning building, her suit is fire resistant but that doesn’t account for the smoke, so she’s got to be quick. Crouching through the building she eventually finds the small ball of orange and white fur hidden under one of the beds, wide eyes stare back at her as it yowls in fear. Eleanor doesn’t have time to try and get it to understand that she’s here to rescue it, so she reaches in, ignoring the swipe from the claws and grabs the cat by the scruff on the back of the neck. Then quickly makes her way back to the blown-out windows, glad when the unbearable heat is replaced with cool night air. The cat curls against her, claws digging in to her armour when she finally reaches the ground.

That’s when she spots the police, pointing at her. Eleanor frowns, disentangling the cat from her when the little girl runs up and makes grabby hands.

“Vigilante!” One of the officers shouts, one hand on his gun. “You’re going to have to come with us.” The rest of them slowly spread out, circling her like hungry predators. “Deadly force will be used if necessary. Step away from the girl.”

She almost laughs, not because of the change in hearts from what she can only assume is Commissioner Atkins, a shoot to kill order after the fiasco at the park that resulted in several casualties and more injuries? Not a surprise. It’s more because, one, they think she’s a danger to a little girl when she’s literally saved her life _and_ her cat’s life and two, she recognizes the guy. It’s Officer Fumero. The first responder when she’d fought Brutale in the café a couple of days ago in her civilian attire.

To her surprise, and before Eleanor can speak, the little girl with her spitting cat in her arms steps in front of her. “No!” She says, shaking her head. “She saved Ms. Sprinkles! You can’t make her go to jail!”

Eleanor doesn’t move, acutely aware that any motion would set the police officers off. They’re nervous, twitchy, hands still on their guns, not yet drawn. If they fired on her, they could hit the girl, Eleanor wasn’t about to risk that. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees the girl’s mother start heading towards them, and an officer immediately stop her.

“Officers.” She says calmly, slowly turning her head to look at Fumero. “You have orders, no doubt. But I still have work to do, there are more people like these that need help.” Eleanor doesn’t gesture, but the officer briefly glances to the woman and man, the parents of the little girl that’s still stubbornly stood in front of her. Both of said parents trying and failing to get her to walk over.

“Gotham has as of today a zero tolerance for vigilantes. You’re under arrest.” Fumero says, eyes returning to her. Eleanor weighs her options. Chances are she could probably get away without harm, her suit would take most of the damage from the bullets, she’d probably just have bruises if they hit. But the civilians and the firefighters nearby would get in the crossfire. It could end badly. It _would_ end badly.

Slowly she raises her hands out in front of her, as if she’s pacifying an angry animal. “Okay.”

Fumero frowns at her. “You’re going to come quietly?”

“Yes.”

The little girl in front of her shakes her head violently, hugging her cat closer to her chest. “No!”

“It’s okay sweetie,” Eleanor murmurs softly, as Fumero approaches her with handcuffs in one of his hands. “Go back to your mom and dad, okay? I’m going to be fine.”

“But…” The girls lip twitches, tears gather in her eyes. Then she hugs Eleanor’s leg tightly, squishing the cat between herself and the armour. When Fumero finally gets within cuffing range of her, there’s two guns pointed at her. The other officers holding back the parents while the fire rages behind them.

“Turn around.” Fumero says, eyeing her suspiciously.

When Eleanor pointedly looks down to the girl still attached to her leg, he lets out a sigh and gestures to another officer. Who walks over cautiously and pries her off kicking and screaming, the cat yowling and struggling to get free. Fumero quickly then cuffs one of her hands, then forces her not too gently to turn around and does the same to her other hand.

“No funny business.” He warns her, guiding her back to the cruiser. The five second walk it takes them to get there, Eleanor is already out of the cuffs, she’s got a small lockpick in her gloves, attached to her index fingers. She feels slightly bad that it’s so easy to get out of them, but she’s not been trained by one of the world’s greatest escape artists without picking up a trick or two. _(And really, shouldn’t the police know better by now? Batman’s been pulling disappearing acts on them for years.)_

“I hope you know it’s not personal.” Fumero says.

Eleanor hums. “You’re just following orders.”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pauses. “I’m just doing my job.”

“If the Commissioner asked you to cover up a crime, would you?”

“Of course not!” He says insistently, the grip on her upper arm tightening. Anger is good, anger makes you honest.

“But you don’t agree with his orders now, yet you follow them.”

“I’m doing my job.” Fumero snaps. “What you’re doing is illegal.”

“What I’ve been doing these past three days is save lives, Officer.” She doesn’t miss the way he quickly looks over to the crying girl and the cat hanging from her arms. To the parents trying and failing to console her. And the older brother and sister who’s glaring daggers at the other police officers. As if they were the bad guys. Honestly, it’s the last thing Eleanor wants, the boys in blue are supposed to be seen as heroes. More than herself and the rest of her family. The Batclan did what they did because sometimes it was needed, sometimes you couldn’t wait for the law to catch up, sometimes you needed to play a bit dirty. That didn’t mean that they didn’t respect it. Law was necessary, sometimes it just needed a helping hand.

“That doesn’t make it less illegal, you take the law in your own hands.” He argues hotly, not yet making any attempt at getting her into the cruiser.

“You’re right.” Eleanor agrees. He frowns, surprised at her attitude. “But if I can save one person from having to go through something horrible. Or stop a killer from killing again. Isn’t that worth it?”

“It’s a dangerous attitude.” He says, “you’re not omnipotent, you could walk in on someone who’s just defending themselves and think they’re the bad guy and then you’ve put someone in a hospital whose only crime was wanting to live.”

She wants to argue that she’d was too well trained to make that kind of rookie mistake, but with the civilians no longer in the risk of getting caught in the crossfire she knows it’s got to be now or never.

“A good point.” She says, letting the cuffs drop. “I’m truly sorry about this.” Fumero’s look of confusion turns into realization, but by then Eleanor’s got his arm behind his back, pulling the gun out of the holster, tossing it away from them and pushing the larger man away, he stumbles forward into his fellow officers and Eleanor quickly slips behind the cruiser, and into the darkness of the alley they’re parked next to. Blind gun fire goes off behind her, one bullet manages to hit her in the shoulder before she’s got time to grapple away, hearing Fumero shout at his men to cease fire.

Looking down in the alley at the search for her, she can’t help but feel sad at the turn of events. The thought of being enemies with the police, even with the painful throbbing of her bruised shoulder, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be allies of the GCPD, allies in a war against the criminal underworld that threatened their city.

With a heavy sigh, Eleanor turns to leave, making it across a couple of buildings before she taps her communicator alive.

“O? The police have a shoot to kill order on all vigilantes in Gotham.”

 _“I know.”_ Barbara replies, sounding just as exhausted as Eleanor feels. _“Nightwing just got shot, he’s with Agent A at the moment.”_

“How bad?”

_“In the leg, he’s okay. Got a mild fever and he’s on some heavy painkillers, he’s back at the cave.”_

Out of commission. Maybe it’s for the best, and knowing Alfred they’d probably be in the manor, in the comfort of his old room. It’s a relief to know it’s not a life-threatening injury.

“Is he conscious?” Eleanor still hadn’t spoken to him, and maybe she was mother-henning again, but could she really be blamed for being concerned about the people she loved?

 _“You’re going to have to ask Agent A.”_ Barbara says. _“There’s more civilians in danger five minutes from your location, sending GPS locations.”_

“Okay I’ll take care of it. Thanks Oracle.”

There’s a tired grumble on the other end before the connection is cut, and Eleanor quickly brings up the number to the manor through her glove-computer, connecting through a layer of encryptions that would make NASA jealous. In reality, the computer scrambles her connection and makes it look like it’s a phone call from Eleanor Wayne if anyone – which is doubtful – should manage to hack through. Alfred picks up on the third ring.

_“Wayne Manor, how may I assist you?”_

“It’s me.” She says, leaping to another building towards her destination. “Is he awake?”

 _“Master Dick is indeed conscious.”_ Alfred replies. _“Perhaps you will have better luck convincing the young man to stay in bed.”_

Eleanor huffs in slight amusement. “I’ll try, thanks Alfred.”

There’s a slight muffle from the other end as Alfred brings the phone over to Dick’s bedside, she can hear the grumbling from her boyfriend even before he gets his hands on the phone.

 _“Hey.”_ He says then, voice groggy. _“’m okay, before you ask. Alfie gave me the strong stuff.”_

“Just what I wanted to hear,” Eleanor hums. “I’ll come check up on you later.”

_“It’s fine, you’ve got things to do anyway. No rest for the wicked.”_

“Is that what I am?”

 _“Totally.”_ Dick slurs, _“wicked sexy.”_

Eleanor almost twists her ankle when she jumps as he says that. Snorting loudly, before laughing.

“Oh he gave you the strong stuff alright.”

 _“I feel all floaty.”_ He says, it sounds like he’s smiling. _“And I miss you, but you’ve gotta be a superhero n’ stuff.”_

“Vigilante.” Eleanor corrects. She’d never be big-headed enough to call herself a superhero, not when they had actual superheroes like Supes and the Flash running around. Dick knows about her standpoint on this, he also loves teasing her about it too.

 _“Super-duper-hero.”_ He sing-songs, that ends up in a yawn. Eleanor has to supress her own yawn, maybe she should take herself out of commission too, a nap right around now sounds amazing.

“Promise me to stay in bed and rest?” She asks, taking another running jump and tucks into a roll to keep up momentum once she lands.

 _“’kay, promise”_ he mumbles. _“Love you.”_

“Love you too.”

He says something else, something muffled and far away as the phone most likely slips from his hands, Eleanor lets out a fond little sigh at it. It’s nice to hear him be himself again, the goofy, happy, warm self that was still buried beneath all the pain and suffering he’d been through. Even if it was a result of being high on painkillers. Pain who was such a familiar companion, and not just the physical pain, that was easy to handle. No, the pain that they all learned to handle in one way or another at such a young age was the mental kind, Dick losing his parents, Eleanor living with an absent one. They learn how to cope, how to rely on each other to take away that pain.

She didn’t need proof that he was going to be okay, Eleanor already knew that. He was one of the strongest people she knew in the entire world. But actually hearing that carefree, cheery personality strike through his drugged haze was like seeing sunshine after days of grey skies and rain.

When she finally makes it to the location Barbara had sent her it’s been less than five minutes. The civilians have locked themselves in their apartment, blocked it off with heavy furniture. On the street outside the building there’s a group of thugs, a myriad of different colours, some belonging to Penguin, others to Demonz and if she’s not mistaken, there’s a couple of Lynx’s people there as well. There’s also a boy amongst them, he can’t be older than Tim, maybe fifteen. He’s being pulled and tugged between the group as they holler and jeer to an open window a couple of stories up where a woman is stood, tear filled eyes wide with fear.

Eleanor doesn’t hesitate, she throws the smoke bomb just as she’s about to land in the middle of the group. With the smoke obscuring their vision it’s easy to dismantle them, leaving them groaning in pain on the hard asphalt. That’s also when things go wrong, because of course they do. A punch catches her in the shoulder, the bruised one from earlier, and leaves her gasping for breath stumbling away from the attacker. Eleanor spins just in time to catch the fist that would have broken her nose, she can’t stop it, instead redirecting the blow that _really_ isn’t normal strength for a guy the size of the one throwing the punch.

If she hadn’t been wearing armour it would have most likely broken her wrist. The man laughs crazy like, muscles bulging unnaturally as he throws another punch at her. This time catching her in the stomach. Eleanor gasps, desperately trying to regain her balance. The assault continues, blow after blow. Dodge after dodge, there is nothing that she does that stops the drug crazed thug. Eleanor trips him up, he crashes into the ground with a sickening crunch, and then gets back up as if his nose hadn’t just been broken, no recognition of pain on his face.

By the time the rest of the thugs that are still on their feet decide to get involved Eleanor is panting hard. She’s so busy trying to protect her head that she doesn’t see the man with a spiked bat approaching her, doesn’t see him swing it. Pain explodes as the nails pierce the less protected area of the back of her knee. Her exhaustion making itself known as another one kicks her straight in the side, something she could have easily defended herself against normally.

There’s a brief pause in the combat as she struggles back to her feet, cataloguing her injuries from the worst to easiest to deal with. Her left knee, bleeding from the rusted nails. Concussion from several hits to the head, enough that her vision is a bit blurry. Her right wrist sprained and a cut lip, her jaw feels sore too. To top that up, an abundance of bruises scattered all over her body.

But the absolute worst one is her exhaustion, it’s making her slip up. She could have taken these guys on easily if she weren’t so damned tired. Eleanor straightens up, flexing her fingers on her left hand, glad that her training has made her ambidextrous.

“Watch out!” the fifteen-year-old kid cries out just as the – it’s got to be venom of some kind, a new strand of Bane’s usual, maybe – thug throws himself into a tackle. Eleanor barely manages to get herself into a position that won’t break her spine before she’s slammed into the building wall, the back of her head exploding in pain, a couple of ribs broken too? It’s getting hard to breathe. She sees black spots in front of her eyes when she’s released, and slumps against the ground. The gang of people laugh, another yelp from the kid. She spits out blood, slowly struggling to her feet.

“This bitch just won’t quit, huh?” One of them taunts. He steps forward, it’s the guy with the nailed baseball bat. He goes to swing it, this time aiming for her face. Eleanor raises her arm just in time to block it, the nails bite through her skin, the armour making sure it’s not too deep. She strikes with her right hand, his nose breaks but her sprained wrist throbs angrily in retaliation. The bat dropping to the ground, the thug dressed in ill-fitting clothes stumbles away, cursing and groaning in pain as his comrades laugh at him.

Then she’s lifted off the ground, a fist closed around her throat, hood falling back from her face. Eleanor can hold her breath for seven minutes if she needs to, with the right technique. Being choked is different from voluntarily holding your breath though. She struggles, kicking and punching her assailant enough that it would make a normal person drop her. This man though, pumped full of venom, doesn’t do as much as flinch. As her vision starts to fade, all Eleanor can think of is that she’s going to break her promise to Dick.

She’d sworn she would never leave again.

Then a gunshot splatters blood and brain matter all over her, the grip on her throat loosens, she drags in several mouthfuls of air as her would be killer slumps to the ground, almost dragging her with him.

The group panic, more gunshots echo in the otherwise desolate street. Eleanor looks up, trying to identify the new threat. Her vision still blurry from tears and the now severe concussion. She spots the kid, cowering on the street, holding his arms around his head and screaming. Then the dead bodies of the other thugs, bullet and stab wounds, quick and efficient, they died quickly without much pain. And lastly the man responsible. Two pistols, one drawn, the other holstered. In the other hand a Kris knife, it’s snake shape design distinct even in the poor lighting and dripping blood. Shadowing his face from recognition is a plain red hoodie, but she does see hints of grey body armour underneath it. His body language is lax, unthreatening to both her and the kid still sniffling amongst the bodies.

He turns and starts walking away, and Eleanor stumbles forward.

“Stop.” To her surprise, he stops, head tilted just slightly as if telling her to elaborate. “Why…?” She falters, coughing up blood. “Why would you help me?”

The gunman tilts his head, she can hear the amusement in his voice when he speaks. “Guess you caught me in a good mood.” He says, his voice deep yet strangely familiar. Familiar enough that she gets a sense of Déjà vu, yet Eleanor has no idea who this is.

“Have…? Have I met you before?” She just needs to see his face, but his back is still turned towards her, and honestly she’s having difficulty keeping her head from spinning.

“No.”

“What’s your name?”

“What’s _yours_?” He snaps back.

Eleanor can’t stop the bubbling chuckle. “Fair.” She wheezes, holding her hand across her chest, she’s starting to feel numb. Still though, he’s just killed half a dozen people, even if it were to save her life _. Especially_ , since it was to save her life. She can’t just let him walk.

“You didn’t have to kill them.” She rasps out, it hurts to breathe.

He scoffs. Eleanor isn’t sure if she’s imagining it, but she thinks she hears ‘typical’ whispered under his breath.

“I can’t let you do it again.” She insists, taking another painful step forward.

“You can’t stop me.” He says, scoffing, “you can barely stand up on your own.”

That doesn’t make her less determined though. Eleanor lets go of the iron fence she had no idea she’d been leaning on, taking a couple of shaky steps in his direction. Her knee gives out on the second step, she grunts through the stabbing pain, placing her hands on the asphalt to stop herself from smashing her face into it. She can feel her consciousness slipping, and fights against it. Can’t pass out now, she needs to get to safety. Or call Barbara, or Cass.

Black combat boots appear in her peripheral, she struggles to get her sprained, or maybe broken now, hand to press the emergency button on her glove. The one that’s hidden and hard to reach on purpose so she wouldn’t accidentally press it while fighting. It’s a combination thing, she has to press her left-hand thumb to the base of her ring finger and at the same time click the button on her left wrist. But she can’t get her right hand to cooperate.

Then a gloved hand closes around her wrist, pressing down on the button that he definitely shouldn’t know was there. She opens her mouth to ask, just as Barbara’s voice calls out in her ear and for a second she feels weightless, she hears him speak while she’s fighting the darkness that threatens to swallow her. Feels the change of elevation with a… grapple? It’s difficult to focus on anything, but a grapple gun has a pretty distinct noise it makes both while shooting and reeling it in. Eleanor struggles even as Barbara’s voice calls her name in her ear, the man – he’s got to be carrying her – chuckles drily. Then she’s flat on her back, and in so much pain, she just wants to sleep. Eleanor sees sea-green eyes peering down at her, and she reaches a hand out towards them.

“Jay.” She murmurs, as sweet darkness claims her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's back! Kinda. :D
> 
> This chapter take place during Batman: War Games.  
> Chapter is named after "Angel with a Shotgun" by The Cab. (Which I love, it's the perfect song for Jason)  
> As always, thank you for reading. Comments and kudos fuel my writing. ;D


	7. You better know what you're fighting for

The first thing Eleanor notices when she comes to is that someone is watching her. The second thing is the throbbing of her wrist and tightness over her chest. She cracks an eye open, it takes a second to adjust to the brightness of the light shining through the windows, she’s no longer in her suit. But she recognizes her old room back at the manor. Bar a couple of things that she’d taken when she moved out, it still looks exactly the same way Eleanor had left it.

Cass inches forward, a big relieved smile on her face. “You are awake.”

“Tiny bat,” Eleanor murmurs affectionately. Cass’s returning grin almost makes the pain worth it. “How long was I out?” She moans, taking shallow breaths not to agitate her ribs. Cassandra makes a displeased face.

“Only… twelve… hours. I found you.”

Found her. The man in the red hoodie, he’d known what to do, he’d known exactly how her emergency system worked. You couldn’t just press that button by accident. That’s how it had been designed. But how? There are only six people alive in the world that knew of it, and all of those are her immediate family. Where does she start asking questions. Who was the guy who had saved her? All be it by shooting the thugs that had almost killed her. She was conflicted about that, because yes. She’d gotten out okay in the end. But those deaths were on her, if she’d just managed to subdue them, maybe they’d still be alive, thugs or not. Then there was the question of why. Why had he saved her? Why had he left her for Cass to find? He could have easily tried to ransom her back to Batman, or even tried to expose her secret identity, sold that information, it would be worth a lot of money.

She… Green-blue eyes flash in her mind’s eye. She must have been in so much pain that she’d been hallucinating towards the end, right? Or it was someone else with the same eye colour. Sea-green eyes weren’t _that_ uncommon after all.

Because Jason is dead, no matter how much she didn’t want that to be true.

“Did you see him?” She asks Cass. Her little sister shakes her head, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“No. Barbara said… she saw him on the... security… cameras.” She frowns, struggling with the words. Eleanor waits patiently, it’s not like Cass will learn if she’s constantly interrupted.

“He… left you, on, uhm… on the roof.” She gestures to Eleanor’s knee. “Bandaged your… wound.”

Eleanor’s eye twitches, lips parting in surprise. That’s… unusual. Why would he care enough to make sure she didn’t bleed out, and risk getting caught by Cass. The younger woman nods, as if she’s reading Eleanor’s mind.

“We checked for any substances in your blood, it’s clean.” Barbara says to Eleanor’s surprise, rolling herself into the room with a small tray across her lap. There’s a bowl on it, soup by the smell of it and a glass of water. Cassandra takes the tray without a word, placing it next to Eleanor and holds out the water first. Which she greedily gulps down not realising how dry her throat had been, only slowing down when Cass gives her a chiding look. Babs rarely went to the manor these days, so why was she here now? Eleanor raises a questioning eyebrow to the redhead who dismissively waves her hand as if to say ‘later.’ Eleanor returns to the other, maybe more pressing issue.

“Any face rec?”

“None, whoever this guy was, he’s a professional. He knew exactly were the cameras where.”

“And my gear?” That’s the only thing that made sense, he’d messed with her gear right? Tried to infiltrate the tech to maybe figure out who Batman was. A bigger target. But Barbara just shakes her head.

“I quarantined it, but there’s nothing. No attempt at hacking the data, no bugs, nothing missing.”

“What the fuck.” Eleanor says, Babs makes a face that says she agrees while Cass gives her another chiding look, one that reminds her of Alfred. “We got nothing?”

Barbara makes another face. It says enough.

“What about my injuries?” She sighs, glancing down to the cast at her wrist. “Broken?”

“Yeah, Leslie was here and fixed you up, major bruising, three broken ribs. The wrist. Puncture wounds on the back of your knee and arm that didn’t get infected. Coupled with a severe concussion. She wasn’t happy.”

“Doc never is.” Eleanor hums, giving Cass a grateful look when she holds out the bowl for her, Eleanor still has enough pride to not allow the younger to feed her the soup.

“I… found Steph.” Cass says, eyes turning down. Alarmingly Eleanor makes a noise of protest, with the spoon still in her mouth. Barbara shakes her head though, and Cassandra quickly gives her a reassuring smile.

“She is… o-okay... now.” Cassandra stutters briefly, looking to Barbara to continue, yet the older woman just shakes her head again. Encouragingly gesturing for Cass to go on. A little frustrated, Cass turns back to look at Eleanor. “S-she was… tortured. B-by Black Mask.”

“But she’s okay? Eleanor prompt, and Cass nods.

“Clinic.” She simply says, “Batman… helped.”

There’s a rap at the door that turn all three of their attention towards it and stood there in pyjamas, a crutch under each arm is Dick, looking groggy but a gentle smile grazing his lips.

“Sunshine.” Eleanor smiles, immediately feeling a hundred percent better. He walks into the room, sitting down by the edge of her bed next to Cassandra and laces their fingers together.

“You’re awake,” he says, sounding like he himself had just woken up. “Alfie told me when they brought you upstairs yesterday but threatened to kneecap me if I didn’t stay put in bed.”

Eleanor laughs, and then winces from pain as it movement agitates her broken ribs.

“I’m okay,” she wheezes, taking shallow breaths at the worried looks she gathers. “Laughing hurts.”

“I should get going,” Barbara says then, Cass immediately frowns.

“Did something happen?” Eleanor questions, turning her attention back to her friend. “You’re not normally the one for visiting the manor.”

“The clocktower was compromised,” the redhead explains. Eleanor blinks as realization slowly makes itself known.

“Steph? Black Mask.”

Barbara nods. “We assume so, it’s okay. The GCPD thinks that it was just my tech company that Mask ‘discovered’.”

“Not… all.” Cassandra says, frowning.

Barbara sighs. “I’m leaving Gotham. And before you all protest,” she looks accusatory to Cass for a second, who crosses her arms in return. “It’s only to Metropolis, I’m going to focus on running the Birds from there.”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment where no one speaks, then Dick smiles. “I think it’s a good idea Babs, but only if we stay in touch.”

“Nothing will stop that, twenty-something Wonder.” The redhead teases, and Dick’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the fond pet name from their friend.

“We’ll miss you, Babs.” Eleanor offers, detangling her hand from Dick’s to reach out for her, Barbara leans forward to grab it.

“I’ll only be a phone call away, Elle.”

“Hundreds of phone calls,” Eleanor says, squeezing the other woman’s hand. Barbara laughs quietly, then withdraws her hand.

After Barbara leaves, Cass going with her to say goodbye, Dick inches closer to her on the bed. They gently manoeuvre around not to hurt themselves more, Eleanor ends up resting her head against his shoulder, Dick’s nose pressed against her temple and his arm wound around her.

“How are you doing?” She murmurs quietly, tickling his palm with her fingers on her uninjured hand. His fingers encapsulate hers, warm and calloused against her cold ones.

“Getting there,” Dick replies. “It’s easier to be around everyone than I thought it would be. Though, I haven’t spoken to Bruce yet, out of uniform at least.”

Disappointing Bruce had always been one of their major issues. Choosing instead to overwork themselves to perfection to try and prove that they were worthy of the occasional compliments of ‘good job’ or ‘well done’. A habit that Eleanor had tried desperately to break away from, which was easier said than done after twenty-one years of doing it.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he says quietly. “I was wondering if I could come with you back to Boston.”

“Really?” She arches up, ignoring the stab of pain from her ribs to peer up into the blue of his eyes. To be completely honest, Eleanor had considered quitting school because of all the recent… developments. Moving back to Gotham full time, or even living in Blüdhaven just to be closer to him. It hadn’t really occurred to her that Dick would want to come with her to Boston.

“Yeah, if… you’d want that…?” Uncertainty flickers in his eyes, Eleanor feels the smile grow on her lips, hugging him tightly against her.

“I would love that.” She says, Dick lets out a relived sigh against her hair, squeezing her gently. “Though,” Eleanor adds, letting out a small, painful chuckle, “I don’t think my roommate would approve, we’d have to live off campus.”

“Apartment shopping?” He asks, smiling against her.

“Something small, maybe in Cambridgeport, near the university.”

“Wouldn’t that be expensive?”

Eleanor shrugs, burrowing her face into his chest, smelling the laundry detergent that Alfred uses. “I’ll buy the entire building, or the street.”

Dick laughs a genuine deep laughter that makes the grin on her face even more prominent and shakes them both on her bed.

“An apartment together huh?” Dick says, hand rubbing over her bicep.

“In Boston.” Eleanor hums. “You’re sure?”

“About Boston?”

“About moving in together.” She corrects, “after everything, I just want to make sure that you’re not making this decision because you feel like you have to.”

Dick squirms against her for a moment, or maybe fidgeting is a better descriptive. For what feels like forever they just sit there in relative silence, Eleanor doesn’t press him for an answer, she just idly toys with his fingers, by pressing the tips together then the flat of their palms, spreading their fingers. She knows he’s watching while thinking, feels the smile against her hair when she wrestles with his thumb.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Dick admits after a while, catching her hand with his in a loose hold. Eleanor props herself up again, ignoring the brief and sharp sting of pain to look him in the eyes. Dick's sky blue eyes meets her own with uncertainty written all over his face.

“I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you Richard. The way that I feel about you, I will never feel with anyone else. I choose you. Flaws and all.” Eleanor places her hand over his heart, the steady beat is comforting. “So, trust me when I tell you this, you got nothing to prove.”

Dick swallows, Eleanor continues speaking softly.

“We’re not in a rush,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere. Living together or not.”

“We’ve lived together before.” He says, eyes closed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“In a house with Bruce,” Eleanor laughs quietly. “And Alfred.”

She loved them both dearly, but it was different, her and Dick had never truly lived alone together, no matter how large the manor was. No matter how many times they’d spent in a hidden away part of it. Or no matter how many times they’ve both stayed over at each other’s places during the summer or weekends.

“I... want to wake up next to you. Want to cook and curl up on a ridiculously comfortable couch that’s ours at the end of the day. Watch some silly TV-shows and pass out only to wake up hours later with a stiff neck and then carry you to our bed. I want... I want all of it not because of happened, but because it would be yours and mine. Because you’re the one I love most in this entire world. And I want to build a home with you.”

Her breath catches in her throat. Eleanor feels her eyes water at the soul bearing confession. She... knew that he already felt this way about her, after all Dick would never be in a relationship with someone he didn’t love. Hearing it out loud still sent her heart racing, made her feel all gooey and warm. Like the world could explode right outside the windows of her childhood room and she wouldn’t even care, because all that mattered in this moment was them. It blows her mind how lucky she is to have him.

Dick’s lips curl up into a smile with the strength of the sun, a genuine Dick Grayson smile, and Eleanor realizes she’s said some of that out loud.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself you know, a bit of a worrywart but it’s part of your charm.”

Eleanor laughs, reaching up with her uninjured hand and curls her fingers through his hair.

“Boston?” He asks, once her laughter dies down and all that remains is a small fond smile.

“Yeah.” She says. “Boston.”

The next morning Eleanor finally gets permission from Alfred to go visit the clinic that Steph is being taken care of in. Leslie greets her with narrowed eyes and a disapproving look that almost, _almost,_ sends her back to the car she’d driven. (Alfred had hidden her keys to the bike, even if she didn’t have proof, she was ninety percent certain that it was him.) Instead she tries her best not to look as injured as she feels and gets shown to Steph’s room not soon after.

When she sees the young ex-Robin Eleanor immediately feels bad for complaining about her own injuries. Steph looks like she’s gone through a meat grinder. Bruises the size of soccer balls, cut lip, blackeyes, cast on her arm, and bandages wrapped around pretty much everything else. She’s awake though and tilts her head and smiles when Eleanor approaches her bed.

“Oh, hey Elle. Fancy seeing you here.” Her lip splits when she speaks, a slow dribble of blood make its way down her chin. Eleanor grabs some paper from the bedside table and gently dabs it away before Steph can protest.

“I’m-”

“Nah, don’t wanna hear another apology. I did this myself. Well, technically Black Mask did, but consequences.” Eleanor imagines Steph would wave her hand if she could move her arm.

“Steph...”

“Really Eleanor, I’ve been stuck here for what feels like years, can you give me the latest gossip instead of the pity stuff, please?”

She sighs.

“Okay. Uhm, Dick and I are moving in together.”

Stephanie’s eyes go wide, and she grins and, _again_ splitting her lip open. Eleanor gives the younger a disapproving look that she completely ignores.

“Oh wow, that’s awesome. No wedding bells though?” Eleanor frowns, almost tempted to roll her eyes in frustration but Steph just laughs lightly, then winces. There’s a small amount of satisfaction at the pain, then Eleanor feels a bit bad for it, her own ribs throbbing angrily as a reminder.

“I guess I can’t be picky,” Steph sighs dramatically, “though if I don’t get to be the baby’s godmother, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Eleanor outright groans at that, “you’re high.”

“As a kite.” Steph says grinning. “Honestly though, I’m happy for you guys, you’re like my favourite celebrity couple. And you know, ex-boyfriend's family. But mainly the celebrity thing.”

Eleanor doesn’t think she ever will get used to Stephanie’s particular brand of crazy, and honestly, she doesn’t really _want_ to. She gives the younger woman a fond smile, reaching out to caress some of her blonde hair away from her face. Stephanie closes her eyes briefly, when she opens them there’s a vulnerability hidden there, Stephanie suddenly looks younger than she is, more fragile.

“I fucked up Elle.”

“It’s okay.” She immediately hushes.

“No, I started this whole thing because I wanted to prove something to B.” Steph sniffles. “He hates me now.”

“No one hates you.”

Eleanor doesn’t know what exactly Stephanie is talking about, but what she does know is that the sixteen-year-old has already been through pain that no sixteen-year-old should have to go through, she doesn't need to put more on her already heavily burdened shoulders.

“You don’t get it, I started the gang wars, I made all the leaders show up to a meeting and something went wrong, and-,” she sniffles again. “Tim’s going to think I’m an idiot.”

There’s a sting of anger, not at Steph. But at Bruce, she _thought_ that her father would have spoken to Stephanie about joining the Birds of Prey. Explain to her why she was no longer Robin. Of course the younger wanted to prove herself to them, not only to try and make up for her father's – Cluemaster’s – mistakes but also to feel worthy – to prove that she had what it took. If Bruce could just communicate his fucking thoughts none of this would have happened, Stephanie wouldn’t have been tortured by a mad man.

Eleanor cools her expression, not wanting to cause Steph any more stress.

“Shh, no, he won’t think that. Tim loves you.”

Steph sniffles, doubt playing in her eyes.

“He won’t hate me?”

Eleanor shakes her head. “He won’t hate you, hon.”

Stephanie sniffles again, blinking away the tears in her eyes then lets out a long world-weary sigh.

“Bruce will, he’ll hate me for what I did.”

Again, Eleanor shakes her head, combing her fingers through Stephanie’s hair soothingly. “You made a mistake. We’ve all made mistakes, every one of us, even Bruce. _Especially_ Bruce. You have absolutely nothing to worry about sweetie, all you need to do is heal up.”

When Eleanor was younger, she didn’t think that Bruce could do anything wrong. Like most children, she worshipped the ground her father walked on. The cracks had formed when he started fighting with Dick. Eleanor had quite pointedly, taken Dick’s side in those. Then again when Jason had died. Even now, four years later. Eleanor still blamed Bruce for it, she probably always would. But the point was, Bruce _was_ just as human as the rest of them. Despite all the jokes about him being more alien than Clark. He made mistakes, and those mistakes usually got a lot of people hurt. Both unintentionally and not.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Eleanor smiles. “Chin up, sweetie. Don’t let Bruce’s incapability of communication get you down.” God knows that Eleanor had blamed herself enough for similar issues when she was younger.

Feeling the eyes on her back, she glances over her shoulder to see Tim standing in the door, one hand raised to knock and the other clutching a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“Hey,” he says, Stephanie blinks rapidly, getting rid of the unshed tears in her eyes. “I can come back?”

“No, it’s alright.” Eleanor replies, meeting Steph’s eyes again as the teen shakes her head, longing appearing in her blue eyes at Tim’s appearance. “I’ve got some other errands to run, no strenuous activity or Doc Thompkins will have your butt.” Eleanor continues, giving Steph a wink.

“Ha ha.” Steph says, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. “Thanks Elle.”

“Anytime sweetie.” She leans down, presses a quick kiss to Steph’s brow and turns, seeing the same blush on Tim’s face and can’t help but give him a teasing look about it. He tries to ignore her but doesn’t quite manage to dodge the sisterly jab she gets him with.

It’s later in the afternoon that she meets up with Dick towards the outskirts of the Bowery. He’s dressed in full uniform with a brace around his right leg, and two crutches that Eleanor is fairly certain is Alfred’s influence. She’s got her own uniform on too; the spare one she keeps at her apartment.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she tells him, stopping by his side. Dick sighs heavily, not in exasperation, instead it’s weary.

“I have to.” Eleanor wants to protest, wants to insist that he didn’t have to. They were partners, a team. He must see it on her face, because he rests one of the crutches rest against the metal beam of the water tower they’re under and cups her face. Gently stroking a gloved thumb over her bruised cheek.

Eleanor relents. “I’m here.”

“I know, I can handle this.”

“I believe you.” She replies, placing her own uninjured hand over his.

Observing Dick confront his attacker from afar is probably one of the most difficult things Eleanor has ever done. Flores greets him like an old lover, as if she’s done nothing wrong and even as Dick firmly puts distance between them it doesn’t stop her from trying to get closer to him. Oblivious to his discomfort. They talk, and for a moment it seems to lean more to a civil discussion before Flores abruptly spins on the spot, even with Eleanor so far away she can still read the betrayal that she’s broadcasting through her body language. Betrayal and ironically, hurt. Like she has any right to be. The fighting starts soon after that. Tarantula may have more training than your average cop, but she’s still no match for Dick, injured like he is. She gets off one shot from her gun, and then the fight is over, and Catalina is reduced to a crying mess on the other rooftop.

It’s a relief when Dick cuffs Tarantula and leaves her tied to a vent after calling it in to the police, with the gun – the murder weapon, linking her to both Captain Redhorn and Blockbuster, dropped where they’d been fighting. Flores doesn’t make things any easier for herself by straining against the cuffs that hold her and shouting profanities that make her sound mad.

When Dick returns to Eleanor’s rooftop, he looks exhausted. Shoulders dropped and head tilted down, yet there’s something lighter there too, like a burden has been lifted off of him. He steps close to her and tugs her into a tight hug with his face pressed against her neck.

“I’m so proud of you.” Eleanor murmurs, gently combing her fingers through his hair, the other arm around his waist. Dick holds on to her until his breathing evens out and he softly murmurs ‘thank you’ against her throat.

They wait in the shadows until the police turns up and arrests Tarantula, who at that point has exhausted herself. It feels over once she’s shoved into a police car, yet Eleanor hates the fact that the only thing she’ll go down for is murder. Dick couldn’t testify against her without implicating himself, without outing himself as Nightwing. Which would in turn make the world turn their eyes to the rest of them. She hates it, hates that he won’t get justice for what happened. It feels wrong.

Yet Eleanor Wayne has connections, she could make Flores’ life miserable. Make sure that the woman never saw daylight again.

“I know that look.” Dick says once they get back to her apartment, well, to the apartment adjacent with all her vigilante gear and equipment. Eleanor places her domino on the table next to her computer. Glancing at him over her shoulder, and hum’s noncommittally.

“I’m not going to stop whatever it is you’re planning.” He says, removing his gloves. “Just don’t get caught.”

Eleanor hums again, this time with a sly grin on her lips. God, she loves him.

“You haven’t left yet.”

Eleanor resists scoffing out loud, not even a ‘hello’? Straight to business it is.

“No.” She just replies, stopping next to him on the building edge. Batman doesn’t turn to look at her, instead he keeps his ever-vigilant eyes on the city in front of them. This high up, Gotham could almost be mistaken for peaceful.

“You should.”

“Is that an order?” Her suit keeps her injuries from being to agitated. But when she holds her breath momentarily – waiting for his answer, she does feel the faint throbbing of her ribs.

“Gotham isn’t safe.”

She knows that, has known it since she was ten years old and first started patrolling the city.

“Did you know that Atkins would order the shoot to kill?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead he tilts his head, taking off towards something she isn’t privy too. Eleanor grits her teeth in frustration, she was _not_ going to get angry, but she wasn’t going to leave without answers. With a bit back sigh, she follows him through the concrete jungle, refraining from glaring out right as he drops down to the middle of a couple of Ghost Dragon thugs throwing bricks into an empty bodega. You would think Gotham would have had enough of violence for a little while after almost three consecutive days filled with it.

It's always fascinating to watch him fight, he’s strong, fast. Doesn’t expend unneeded energy, efficient like Cassandra, yet there’s a calculated coldness about it too, always ten steps ahead of whomever it is he’s fighting, something that Cassandra doesn’t bother with. Cass reacts to whomever it is she's fighting, Batman forces the action and has already calculated sevaral different responses to that action.

Eleanor doesn’t _have_ to get involved, Batman is doing fine on his own, but she jumps down to join them anyway. Or rather, she jumps down so that she can talk to him without shouting too loudly.

“You never answered my question.”

“A little busy.” He replies, knocking another thug who was brave, or stupid, enough to rush at him head on alone. Then grabs another and sends him stumbling into a brick wall.

“Please.” Eleanor scoffs, crossing her arms. “Did you know?”

“I suspected.” Which in bat-speak means he knew that Atkins would do so. She sidesteps a charging thug, hooking her ankle around his and watching him stumble forward to keep balance, all the while glaring at the back of her father’s cape.

“Do you _ever_ feel like sharing these things?” When she doesn’t get a reply she continues. “Maybe N wouldn’t have gotten shot if you had.”

“Nightwing was reckless.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eleanor snaps, finally feeling her anger boiling over. Out of the corner of her eye she sees another gang member hesitate before changing his target to Batman. It does make her feel a bit better, just briefly. “You know what happened in ‘Haven. Don’t pretend you’re not always paying attention.” He might not have all the details, being _busy_ and all. But he damn well could put two and two together.

“Blackbird.”

“No you listen!”

“You tell him girl.” One of the thugs crows.

“He’s felt like shit for these past days and all you can say is ‘don’t let it follow you here’. What is wrong with you?! Do you want to lose him forever? Because this is how you lose him forever!” Then mid rant, turns to a guy who thinks she’s distracted and snarls, “if you take one more step towards me I’ll deck you so hard you won’t be able to walk again.”

The thug falters, probably more stunned that she’s shouting at him. He doesn't come any closer.

“Can we talk about this later?” Batman says, “we’re not exactly private.”

Eleanor throws her hands up, “because you’re always _busy_. You never talk to us.”

“You really should communicate man,” one of the thugs says, “not talking to your kids isn’t healthy.”

“Shut up.” Batman growls at the same time Eleanor points at the man in baggy clothes and says.

“Thank you!”

“This is not the time Blackbird.” Batman says, turning sharply towards her. They’re closer now, just five feet apart, yet Eleanor can’t make out anything by his body language alone – besides the fight that is. It’s like staring at a wall. Another guy with a pipe iron comes charging in, yelling at the top of his lungs. Batman doesn’t even turn, he simply grabs a hold of the pipe, twists it out of the thug’s hand and knocks the guy unconscious with it.

“Then tell me when. _When_ is later?”

“Not right now.” He says, infuriatingly blank.

“Screw you.”

“Yeah!” the same thug once again crows, Eleanor shoots the man a glare. Turning back to her father, who’s dismantling the last of the group of vandals, she’s not dropping it, not this time.

“We’re having this conversation now. Not later. Because later, you’ll just find a way to dodge me.”

“Fine. Talk.”

She pauses briefly, gathering her thoughts.

“'Wing is hurting, and you just dismissing him _is_ going to drive him away. _Again._ ” Eleanor promised she wouldn’t say anything, she knows. But you’d have to be stupid not to see how the things he’d been through – even if it were only the public things, had damaged him. Bruce had pushed him away once, and it had taken a long time for them to reconcile. She didn’t want that to happen again, Eleanor just wanted her family to be on speaking terms, to not be strangers to each other.

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to him?”

“He doesn’t want me to.”

“Bullshit.” Eleanor rubs at her forehead, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Talk to him, please.”

There is the slightest shift in Batman’s posture, becoming less vigilante, and more father. “I will.”

“It’s all I ask.” She murmurs, her anger deflating. “And try not to be an asshole about it.”

He huffs, “careful.”

Eleanor knows he can’t physically see her rolling her eyes because of her domino, but she doesn’t really try to make it less obvious.

“You know what I mean. You’re confrontational and antagonizing at times.”

Batman lets out a short bark of a laugh, and yes, she realizes she might just have described herself as well.

“I’m proud of you guys.” The thug says then, smiling like a parent would to their child having done something amazing.

“Shut up.” Both Eleanor and Batman says at the same time. The thug raises his hands as if to pacify them and then turns around, ready for them to handcuff him.

They hear the sirens of the police not soon after and quickly makes their escape, watching from one of the shadows as the cops start arresting the thugs that are still conscious.

“You two should still leave Gotham.” He says after a long while of silence.

“You don’t want us here.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Dad.” Eleanor starts, tilting her head back to watch the dark clouds pass overhead. “We grew up doing this, we know it’s dangerous.”

“The police have always been on our side.” He defends, “now that’s not the case. Which makes it more dangerous than you’re used to.”

“Okay, I get it.” He wants them all to leave, she closes her eyes, feeling the cool breeze of the late summer night on her face. “But if you need me-…”

“I won’t.”

Eleanor huffs. “Stubborn.” After a moment of silence, listening to the noises of the city, Eleanor feels a light pressure on her shoulder, just the hint of a squeeze before it disappears. When she opens her eyes again, she knows he’s already gone. It’s a goodbye in all but words, then again, they’d never been good with those. Letting out a slow sigh, Eleanor turns back towards her apartment. She just wants to curl up on the couch with Dick and pass out to some rom com they both would just laugh at for being too silly.

Gotham would survive with or without them all there, she was too stubborn not to, one thing the city had in common with her protector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be the end of this work, but I got carried away and wrote an... epilogue?  
> Anyway, the last chapter for Brand New comes out this Friday. (And another bonus-bonus coming out on Saturday!)  
> As always, thank you all for reading, commenting or just leaving kudos! It really warms my heart to see you guys enjoy my writing :)
> 
> Chapter named from lyrics by "Angel With a Shotgun" by The Cab.


	8. Baby you are all that I adore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut, and to be safe I've upped the rating to Explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter.

It’s early October, almost two months since _the events_ in Gotham when they’ve finally moved into an apartment in Cambridgeport. It’s a beautiful place, a one bedroom apartment with a large kitchen and living room, a balcony that’s high enough up that it allows them a nice view of the river and park across the road. Tim and Barbara had stopped by and helped them set up their new computer equipment too. It was more compact than the two of them were used to, but it suited their needs. They were still in the process of unpacking. Most of the furniture was second hand bought, except for the bed, Eleanor had refused anything other than the custom stuff that furnished the manor. (Dick had called her spoiled, she hadn’t disagreed.)

The shrill ring of the doorbell startles the two of them, Dick almost losing his balance on the arm of the couch.

“I’ll get it!” Eleanor quickly says, running to the door before Dick can say anything. She runs through the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the open box of cutlery they’d yet to find a place for by jumping over them. Peering through the peephole for split of a second before unlocking and opening the door.

“Clark!” Eleanor says, loud enough that Dick can hear her from their living room. “This is a surprise.” She hadn’t seen him since he’d stopped by the cave a couple of months ago on some Justice League business. He glances down for a moment, then grins.

“Nice hoodie.”

Eleanor blinks, looking down at the red and blue Superman hoodie with the small almost invisible stain on one of the corners of the ‘S’. She snorts, not feeling embarrassed at all, instead just returns the grin.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” Clark continues, holding a small potted plant in his hand out towards her. “Figured I’d stop by for a housewarming gift.”

“Thank you, come on in,” she says, stepping aside and accepting the gift. “Neighbourhood huh?”

“New York.”

Eleanor huffs, refraining from shaking her head, New York was about three and a half hours away by car, but she supposes when you’re faster than a speeding bullet that's nothing. “Dick’s in the living room,” she informs the man of steel unnecessarily. “We’ve been struggling with the curtains for hours.”

Even though Alfred had offered to help them set up their new apartment, they’d both refused. It was theirs; Alfred had been welcomed as a guest.

“I think I finally got it!” Dick calls followed by a yelp and the grinding noise of a metal. Clark chuckles behind her.

“I’m going to make some coffee, you want some?” She asks, looking up at him.

“Sure, need any help?”

“No,” she says smiling. In truth, the kitchen was kind of a mess, there was tools and boxes all over the benches, and a couple of dirty dishes they hadn’t gotten around to yet, but she knew where everything was. Dick was definitely rubbing off on her, and not only in the fun way.

“He’s just through there,” she gestures to further into the apartment, and Clark gives her a friendly nod before he walks off. Eleanor can hear them talking while she prepares the coffee, and tea for her. Because no amount of living together with people who depended on the stuff would make her start drinking it.

When she walks back into the living room the curtain is put up properly and Dick is no longer balancing on one leg on the armrest. She hands the cups out, Dick giving her a kiss on the cheek as thanks.

“It looks nice.” Clark compliments. “You guys liking it here?”

“Yeah,” Dick says as they all sit down on the couch they’d found at a second hand store, it was slightly worn but o-so very comfortable, “we get evening sunlight on the balcony, and our neighbours are really nice. There’s an older lady down the hall that’s fed us twice already.”

Eleanor laughs, “apparently we look like skin and bones.”

Clark chuckles.

“How’s Lois and Jon?” Eleanor asks, taking a sip of her tea. Jon should be around seven now, she thinks. The boy is growing up so quickly. She remembers holding Jon after he’d been born, the most adorable baby she’s seen.

“Back at the farm, but they’re doing good. Jon’s powers are still fluctuating though, Ma thinks its mood related. And we’re a bit worried about school. But Lois insists it’s important that he develops his social skills more.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Dick says. “I’m sure he’ll do great.”

Clark nods, fondness shining in his eyes.

“So, has Bruce been by yet?” He then asks.

Eleanor fights a grimace, and Dick shakes his head next to her. Tim, Steph, Cass and even Barbara had been by.

“He’s been busy with Gotham,” Dick excuses, “though he did send that gift, the coffee machine.”

A ridiculous monstrosity of a machine that took up more space than they had, though not quite as big as the thing in the manor.

“I’m pretty sure Alfred sent that for him.” Eleanor says, swallowing back the bitterness. Despite their chat, Eleanor had hoped that her father would have taken the time to actually visit. Clark sighs quietly.

“He’s been dodging my calls too, and the Leagues.”

The aftermath of the gang wars in Gotham had left them all feeling torn and untrusting. How Bruce had treated them all, lying and manipulating them, Barbara especially, treating her like a glorified secretary. It had all caused a bit of a rift. Now Tim and Cass had gone to Blüdhaven with Dick’s blessings, the police had still not dropped the shoot to kill order, Steph had taken some time away to travel with Leslie in Africa and then her and Dick had left too. Even though Eleanor had told Bruce that she’d always be there if he needed her. He’d dismissed her easily, and she knew he was hurting more than he let on, but what could she do? He didn’t want her help. In fact, he’d bluntly told her he wanted them all to leave.

“Give him some time,” Eleanor offers. “You of all people know how stubborn Bruce is.”

“That’s true,” Clark nods. “I also heard you quit being a cop?”

Dick shrugs. “It was temporary anyway, a means to an end.” Dick was really good at lying when he needed to be. Eleanor sees through the casual shrug, she knew how much he had loved being a police officer. But with everything that had happened, and now with his therapy sessions once a week, he’s spending more time volunteering at the local shelter, helping people at risk. At times he’d come home with a dark look in his eyes and not wanting to do anything other than curl up on the couch and watch silly comedies, yet most of the time he’d come home with determination and pride shining in his eyes.

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” Dick admits. “But I’m doing good with the shelter.”

“I imagine, it’s really honourable what you’ve chosen to do, in and out of costume,” Clark nods, looking at her. “And your schoolwork?”

“Stressful, with the move and all, but it’s settling down now. I’m enjoying it though, it’s challenging.”

“I’m happy for you guys,” Clark says, gesturing to them both with his half empty cup. “With the things you’ve gone through, it’s nice to see you both so peaceful.”

Clark spends another half hour with them before he’s called away, they talk about the apartment some more, the people they’ve met in Boston and plans they have. When Clark leaves, her and Dick end up back on the slightly worn but incredibly comfortable couch. The TV on but neither of them paying attention to it. Eleanor is resting her head in Dick’s lap, letting out a content sigh with his fingers curling in her hair and his other hand resting over her waist. Despite it only having been roughly a week since they moved in, it feels like home. A mixture of her ODC neatness with Dick’s chaotic organization. The wallpaper in the living room is a faded beige, with small almost invisible vines and flowers, it’s not something they picked, and it’s not something they would pick either. But they’d both agreed that it was ugly enough to keep it.

Absentmindedly Eleanor toys with the old stuffed elephant that one of them had unpacked and left on the couch, it’s not nearly as filled with cotton as it once used to be, and it’s been through several surgeries throughout the years, the grey fabric is still soft though and it brings back memories both bitter and sweet.

“That’s been with us for a while.” Dick murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the re-sewed ears.

“Fourteen years I think.” She says. “Did I tell you Bruce won this for me in a bottle throwing game?”

“At Haly’s right? Before we met.”

“After we met, I wanted to go back and see Zitka and he compromised by winning this for me instead.”

“Right, you snuck into the tent.” Dick laughs. “I caught you.”

“No one else did.” She says smugly, looking up at him.

“Stealthy at seven years old.” Dick hums.

“I gave it to you that same night.” Eleanor says, the memory of that night still burned into her brain. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget how it felt watching Mary and John fall, or how Dick’s screams had haunted her sleep for months afterwards.

“And I gave it back when you broke your leg six months later. You tried to climb the old oak tree in the back garden.”

“I was trying to impress you.” She points out. “It backfired.”

“You terrified me.” Dick admits. “I don’t think I could sleep for a week after that happened.”

Eleanor grabs his hand in hers, pressing a kiss to the back of it in apology. She hadn’t really thought it through at the time, but then again she’d been seven and just gotten a best friend she had no idea how to act around. Falling from the old tree had certainly made him more guarded rather than less.

“We should get some Halloween decorations,” Dick says after a moments silence. Eleanor tilts her head up so she can look at him. His fingers shift to her jaw, trailing over her face in featherlight touches that she can’t help but lean in to.

“We’ve just decorated, babe.”

“I saw some on sale, they had Batman stickers.”

Eleanor snorts, fighting the smile that threatens to break free from her lips, “we’re _not_ getting Batman stickers.”

Dick pouts, “we could put them on your bike.”

Eleanor places her hand over her heart, giving him a look of utter betrayal and lowers the elephant plushie back onto the couch. “Don’t you dare.”

“What about some Nightwing stickers? Or Blackbird stickers. They had those too.” He grins.

“I might be persuaded to get the Nightwing ones,” she hums teasingly. “I know the guy, he’s pretty awesome.”

“Oh? Should I be concerned?” He teases back.

“He does have a nice... fighting style.”

“Oh, does he have any other great assets?” The full-blown grin on his face make’s Eleanor laugh out loud. Which doubles once he starts tickling her, her laughter turning snort-like as they both wiggle around on the couch until they’re on the floor, Dick hovering over her. Then he flops down, resting his entire bodyweight against her. Eleanor huffs dramatically, for a moment, pretending to gasp for breath while he gives her the evil eye.

It had taken shorter than she thought it would for him to get back to being as comfortable with physical affections as he had been. Of course there were still some things he was less comfortable with, like having someone in his lap. Dick had pulled her on to him once, and although they’d been kissing and it had been at a calm, unrushed pace, the moment she’d dipped her fingers under his shirt Dick had panicked. They had immediately stopped of course, his panic killing both of their moods. Even though he had been embarrassed later, Eleanor had made sure to let him know that she would never hold anything like that against him. Instead they’d watched a movie and fallen asleep cuddled on the couch.

Other things that sometimes triggered him was heavy rain, and once, a gunshot. Which had not been fun at all, since they’d been in the middle of a fight at that time and he’d frozen up. They’d gotten out alright, but she’d talked him into not going out into the field again until he felt like he was ready. His therapy sessions seemed to help him too, a secured link through the Leagues computers, even though Dick had said he still had issues to work on he’d agreed that it was a good idea, even if he didn’t talk to her about everything they said in the sessions.

Dick’s fingers press against her brow. “Quit thinking so hard.”

Eleanor nudges him back, Dick arches a questioning eyebrow but pulls back until she’s stood, he’s sat on his knees on the floor.

“Dance with me.”

The eyebrow goes higher. “Dance with you to the music of...” he glances at the TV. ”Animal Planet?”

“I’ll sing to you if you need music,” Eleanor says, hand held out. Dick curls his fingers around hers, pulling himself to his feet.

“Please don’t.” He teases, arms pulling her in by the waist and grabs one of her hands in the traditional waltz hold with her other hand on his chest.

“Ouch Grayson.” Eleanor smiles, “and here I thought you liked my singing.”

They move slowly, more in circles than an actual waltz.

“Sorry babe,” he says, grinning. “I said I liked the pretty noises you make.”

Eleanor huffs, grabbing his hand and spins him around, which serves to make him laugh louder before he dips her down as low as he can without touching the floor. (Which admittedly is fairly low, since they’re both pretty acrobatic.)

“We should have a proper housewarming party.” He says, once he’s pulled her back to her feet. “Some of your collage friends, and our _other_ friends.”

“Like, Titan-friends?”

“Yeah, Roy. Donna, Garth maybe even Wally and Linda.” He smiles, they spin again on the spot. “It’ll be fun.”

“Or a recipe for disaster,” Eleanor hums. “What if they find out. I’m not sure I want to pull Anthony and the rest into that part of our lives.” It could be incredibly dangerous. Knowledge was power, and all that. Not that she thought that Anthony would tell anyone _if_ he found out. He was fairly down to earth, and not exactly supervillain material. But it was an unnecessary risk.

“It’ll be fine.” Dick says, “They can be subtle.”

“ _Roy_ can be subtle? Are you sure?”

Dick furrows his brow adorably, making a show of thinking really hard. It’s tough, but she manages not to laugh at him by biting her lip.

“I’m sure if we limit the explosions to one or two, he’ll behave.” Dick decides then, nodding as if it’s a normal thing to say.

“Okay,” Eleanor agrees. “Do you want to invite Koriand’r too?”

Dick pauses, pursing his lips together as he studies her. Eleanor supposes that she should be more against inviting his ex to their home, his ex-fiancé to boot. But honestly, Kori is an extremely pleasant and wonderful person. They have met before, and Eleanor doesn’t have anything against the Tamaranean. Not to mention the amount of times she’s saved Dick’s life. In the end though, it’s about trust, and Eleanor trusts Dick with her life and heart, she knows that any feelings he still has for Kori is purely platonic, that he loves her just as he loves Roy and Donna.

“You would be okay with that?”

“Of course,” she squeezes Dick’s arm gently. “She’s a good person, and you two are still friends. Besides,” Eleanor shrugs, fingers gripping his shoulders a bit tighter, she looks at him through her eyelashes. “I know who you belong to.”

“Possessive.” Dick murmurs, a spark of desire flaring in his eyes.

“Are you complaining?” She breathes back. He shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to her jaw.

“Not at all.” He replies against her neck, Eleanor tilts her head back to give him more access. “As long as you know who you belong to too.” He whispers it to her ear, teeth lightly grazing against her earlobe, pressing his lips to her pulse. Eleanor gasps lightly when he tugs her close, his arms like iron bars around her waist. When she nods, he captures her mouth in a heated kiss, tongue probing the seam of her lips and before the kiss can develop any further he pulls back and in the same low tone says.

“I want you.”

“I think,” she murmurs back breathily, running her fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. Feeling him softly moan against her neck. “You should take me to our bed.”

Eleanor feels him shudder against her, his hands on her hips tightening. She hopes he leaves marks there, hopes that when she looks in the mirror tomorrow there will be an outline of his fingers against her pale skin.

“Say that again.” Dick demands.

Her chuckle turns into a gasp when he bites lightly over her pulse, working a mark there. “Take me? Or our bed?”

Dick cups her face, bringing her lips to his in a searing kiss as he starts walking her backwards. Until she hits the wall with the archway leading to the kitchen with a low ‘oof’ escaping her throat. The wall is a cold contrast to his hot body pressed against her. Eleanor loves the way his muscles feel against her when he reaches down to grip her thighs. It’s a light pull, but one she understands and jumps ever so slightly to wrap her legs around his waist. His soft lips never leaving hers until they must part momentarily to breathe. When they lean back in, it’s open mouthed and messy, his tongue delving between her lips like she’s a glass of cool water and he, a parched man.

“I love your kisses,” he murmurs against her lips. “I love the way you feel pressed up against me. The soft little gasp you make when I bite your lip or run my fingers along the inside of your thigh.” He draws the sound out by doing that exact thing. Eleanor closes her eyes, leaning her head back to the wall, allowing him to manipulate her like he wants to. “I love how you trust me.”

“Dick...” she whispers.

“Shh, pretty bird. Let me take care of you.”

“I want…” Eleanor cuts herself off with another soft sigh, feeling his smile against her cheek before he pulls back to peer at her.

“Want what?”

Even after all this time together she still blushes at his inquiring gaze.

“I want to suck you off.” She breathes, ears feeling hot. Dick swallows, his hands under her thighs tightening and Eleanor moans when he rolls his hips against hers, feeling his hardening length through their clothes. Her heart stutters in her chest, she feels warm and loved, treasured by his soft touches and hot kisses to her heating skin.

Before she knows it, he’s lifting her from the wall and walking them to the bedroom. Eleanor bounces over the black and blue cover on their bed, stomach clenching a bit at the display of strength. Maybe it shouldn’t excite her so much, but this side of him. The leader, the dominant side, is incredibly hot. Watching him being in control is one of the biggest turn-on’s that she’s got.

“What are you thinking about?” Dick asks, kneeling on the bed just within arm's reach, Eleanor blinks up at him through her eyelashes.

“How strong you are.” It’s a double entendre. Eleanor knows he understands that by just looking into his eyes. Dick smiles, reaching down to cup the back of her head and pull her into another open-mouthed kiss, their tongues sliding against each other’s and leaves her gasping for breath, trying to follow him with her lips when he pulls back. Dick laughs quietly when she does, pressing his thumb over her bottom lip. Eleanor darts her tongue out to lick at the digit, watching his pupils dilate through hooded eyes and his breath catch in his throat. She sucks his thumb in between her lips, lapping at the pad and wetting it before she pulls back with a faint ‘pop’.

Silently, he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, Eleanor crawls past him and slides down to the floor, parting his legs with a gentle touch to the inside of his thigh. She reaches up to tug her hair loose from the bright purple hair tie she’s kept it in all day, knowing that he likes playing with it just as much as she enjoys having it played with.

Dick’s breath catches as she runs her fingers along the seam of his jean's legs, flicking at the button open when she gets there, peering up at him with a coquettish smile on her face.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” She murmurs.

The muscles of his abdomen tighten with a low chuckle. “You know what I want.”

Eleanor bites the inside of her cheek, she wants to ask him to spell it out for her, but before she can even open her mouth to do so Dick leans down, lips moving over her jaw, up to her cheek, whispering low against her ear in a tone that makes her shudder.

“I want you to wrap that pretty mouth around my cock and make me come.” Voice low and sultry, enough that Eleanor bites her lip; her own ears feel hot. “And after you’ve done that,” Dick continues, petting her hair, he nips on her earlobe . “I want you to rub yourself against my leg until you come too.”

He pulls back as her breath hitches, heart thudding faster in her chest. He phrases it like an order, and if that’s not the hottest thing she’s ever heard she doesn’t know what is. Eleanor reaches up with her hands to pull on the hem of his jeans and boxers. But Dick quickly bats them away, eyebrow raised when she looks up at him a little confused.

“I said mouth, not hands. Keep those on your knees.”

More heat flare over her face, Eleanor swallows drily.

“You can do that can’t you?” Dick asks sweetly, running a finger over her cheek, to her lips.

Eleanor nods, silently mouthing ‘yes’ against the digit. He smiles, withdrawing his hand.

“Good girl.”

Two simple words yet they make her shudder and moan weakly, her own hands resting on her knees just as he ordered her to. Should it really be a surprise that she’s got a praise kink? At first it had been confusing, how powerful of an effect the words had on her. How incredibly turned on she’d been just by hearing him praise her. Now though it’s an affirmation on how good she’s making Dick feel, it makes her feel prideful as well as powerful even though she’s being submissive.

Eleanor shuffles a bit closer, leaning in to nuzzle against the bulge in his pants. Breathing in the muted masculine musk through his boxers, the laundry detergent that they bought, lavender, and the soap he uses. She mouths at him through the fabric, wetting it, listening to the small gasps and the cover wrinkling from his hands curling into it, before she drags his underwear down with her teeth – Dick helping just a little by raising his hips up, and freeing his hard length to the heated air between them.

Eleanor wets her lips, looking up at him for permission. He nods encouragingly, breath coming out in short puffs. She leans in, licking up the underside of his length, feeling him twitch against her tongue. Closing her eyes in concentration, Eleanor swirls her tongue around the tip of him, before properly wrapping her lips around his cock. She takes him down as far as she can without choking, wishing she could use her hand for the part that doesn’t fit in her mouth. Yet Dick’s shuddering inhale encourages her to keep going.

“Look at me.” Dick orders, voice gentle but firm. Eleanor tilts her head up as far as she can immediately; the sky blue of his irises is almost completely swallowed up by the black of his blown pupils. Kiss-swollen lips parted and slick with saliva. He looks beautiful, she could stare at him all day and never get bored. How the black strands of his hair almost falling into his eyes, the warm summer tan of his skin, the cute nose and full lips that curl up in a slight smile. Dick takes her breath away without even trying.

He cups the side of her head, thumb brushing against the outline of himself over her cheek. “You can take more, can’t you?” He murmurs, guiding her down. His cock touches the back of her throat, Eleanor’s eyes water as she gags, but his moan and the flutter of his eyes is a reward in itself.

When he lets her go, she slowly pulls back, pressing her tongue to the sensitive part just under the head. Dick moans again, a low guttural sound that makes her rub her thighs together. A thin line of spit and pre-come connects her mouth to him. Eleanor leans in again to press her lips against the head of his cock, swirling her tongue over the slit. All the while never dropping eye contact with him.

“So good, pretty bird.” Dick moans, “you look so good on your knees.”

Eleanor moans at the praise, his hips buck when she does, the vibrations making his toes curl against the soft bedroom carpet. She shuffles forward on her knees, determined to draw that guttural sound out of him again. Her fingers tighten over her own legs when she takes his cock down her mouth again, when he hits the back of her throat she keeps going, forcing back her gag reflex and relaxing her throat. She bobs her head back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper until her nose is pressed up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. She swallows around him, feeling his fingers tangle in her hair to hold her in place as he slowly rocks his hips against her face. Eleanor moans, eyes fluttering shut as he uses her like this, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She loves it, loves him.

Dick curses then breathily praises her and brushing her tears away, “such a good girl, Ellie.”

She moans again around him and Dick grabs the back of her head again, guiding her back down and holding her there as she swallows around him. His fingers curl in her hair, almost to the point of pain, Eleanor looks up, seeing his head tilted back, mouth open and tense.

“I’m close.” Dick warns, she redoubles her effort, moaning around him in encouragement. She wants to taste him, wants him to let go. Bobbing her head but not taking him too deep. His fingers dig into her scalp, he doesn’t push her back down instead holds her still as he comes, the bitter-sweet taste exploding on her tongue. She laps it down greedily, until he’s completely spent and twitching weakly from overstimulation.

His fingers comb through her hair, petting her. Eleanor leans her head against his thigh, waiting for him to regain his breath, and while she catches her own. When Dick does, he peers down at her, thumb caressing her cheekbone. His gaze filled with warmth and love.

“Did you swallow?”

Eleanor nods, her cheek rubbing against the coarse material of his jeans. “Good girl.” He echoes from earlier, she shudders, nuzzling against the fabric, rubbing her thighs together to get some kind of friction. When she looks up at him again Dick’s lips are pulled up into a smirk. Shifting his leg between hers, his intention clear. Eleanor bites her lip, then slowly starts to rub against him. The humiliating gesture looping back and feeds the heat in her body. She’s already so embarrassingly close, even only rutting against him like this.

“That’s it baby, just get yourself off on my leg. You can do that for me right?”

“Dick...” Eleanor whines, pressing her cheek to his hand.

“You’re so close from just having my cock in your mouth, aren’t you?”

She is, she really is. Eleanor feels surrounded by him, his touch, his sent, his voice. Dick rubs his thumb against her lips, and almost automatically she opens her mouth to suck it in. Moaning around the digit as the pressure inside her builds. Dick leans down, pressing his lips against her brow.

“Come on, pretty bird. Let go, I’ve got you.”

Eleanor does, curling in on herself as she comes with a muffled cry. Dick keeps rubbing his leg up against her until she’s shaking, her muscles feeling sore and there’s a pleasant muted buzz between her ears, she feels like she’s floating. Safe and warm being held by Dick. Head dropped against his thigh as her heart slows from a furious pace to a calmer one. Dick’s hand keeps brushing her sweat covered hair away, murmuring encouraging sweet nothings in her ear.

While she still got that sort of boneless feeling, Dick manoeuvres her up on the bed, freeing them both of their clothes and curling up around her under the covers. Eventually, she blinks her eyes open enough to look at him and gives him a dopey smile.

“Welcome back.” He murmurs, hands rubbing up and down her back. Eleanor nuzzles closer, tucking her head under his chin. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She rasps, throat sore. Dick makes a noise, kissing her temple again before he rolls out of the bed, butt naked disappearing out of the bedroom. Returning a half a minute later with a bottle of water in his hand. He props her up and helps her drain almost half of it before she’s had enough.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Eleanor murmurs resting her head on his chest to resume their post coital cuddling.

It was still new, having him be completely in charge, but after what Dick had been through he had needed to feel more in control, something she was more than happy to give him. There’s a part of Eleanor that really wants to take a shower and brush her teeth. But then Dick tucks her closer to him and she just melts back into his embrace.

“We can have a Halloween housewarming party.” Eleanor whispers into the quiet of their room once her heart as returned to a normal pace. They usually spent Halloween running around Gotham taking care of the rogues that crawled out of every nook and cranny during the twenty-four hours. Now? It wasn’t their responsibility anymore, not since Bruce had all but kicked them out.

“You’ll dress up?” She feels Dick grin against her head, Eleanor bites back a grimace. You’d think she’d be happy dressing up for Halloween, but honestly, she found it a bit distasteful.

“Nothing too weird,” she warns, like any of the people they knew, and definitely not any of the villains.

“Remember the stickers? They had costumes too, there was a female Nightwing suit.”

“…Really?” Eleanor actually pulls back to look at him with raised eyebrows, fighting a smile.

“Just saying, seeing you in my colours would be... really sexy.” Dick wiggles his eyebrows and she laughs. She refrains from mentioning that she could literally just go over to the wardrobe with their _actual suits_ and put that on. Though it wouldn’t really be form fitting for her, despite the two of them being the same height.

“Down boy.” Eleanor jokes, Dick just laughs.

“I’ll be a pirate... no wait, a vampire.” He keeps going, rambling through a list of monsters and fantasy creatures, she listens with rapt attention, giving suggestions here and there but stays mostly silent, enjoying his excitement and animated movement with a smile gracing her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand there we go, thank you everyone for your lovely words and kudos.  
> Eleanor and Dick's story is far from over and we'll definitely see more of them in my upcoming work, and also re-introducing Jason as the little shit he is.
> 
> Stay safe and see ya in the next one. <3


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